The Rain Stays The Same
by LilyHellsing
Summary: It is better to betroth distant lands to spread influence & power. That was what Lady Macintosh said before she died. Now widowed Macintosh is greeted by an English Duchess that is to marry his younger son. Alas, the couple-to-be couldn't hate each other more & Lord Macintosh is the one who comforts her. Overtime, she starts to believe she has been promised to the wrong Macintosh.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Rain Stays The Same

Summary: It is better to betroth distant lands to spread influence & power. At least, that was what Lady Macintosh said before she died. Now widowed Macintosh is greeted by the daughter of an English Duchess that is to marry his younger son. Alas, the couple-to-be couldn't hate each other more and Lord Macintosh (Sr) is the one who comforts her…overtime, Lady Evey starts to believe she has been promised to the wrong Macintosh.

Note: Since the movie has limited showing of both Lord and Young Macintosh, I've tossed in names I think would suit them. Not only that, but as an American, I'm rather…rusty on royal titles so bare with me. Enjoy~

* * *

"Aye, that letter be true." Lord Magnus Macintosh waved at the piece of parchment gripped rather tightly in his only heir's hand. "When you were just a wee lad of eight, your mother," his voice faltered briefly, "saw to it that you would marry someone great. And that will be the daughter of a Duchess in England, Evey Elward." The name came off his lips in an odd manner.

The young Vailean Macintosh rolled his eyes although the action was easily concealed by his long hair. "So I see in the letter, Father! Why? Why from all the way of England? There's a perfectly good number of women here!"

On his cushioned seat, Lord Macintosh's blue eyes clouded for a moment. Why indeed? Giving a heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his wild hair. "Because of the lass's dowry and what she will mean to us: money, land, and influence to different lands."

"And what good does that do us if she's coming to live with us here? What can we possibly do with land and influence across the ocean if we are _here_?"

Even now, over a decade later, Magnus could hear his wife's voice. He had asked that very same question, his gaze on his young son who had, at the time, been learning how to block with a mini-shield. As the first born male, he would marry in. Never would he have to give away a child of his to a foreign nation for the sake of a spouse.

And so he repeated the words his wife answered with. "To have a foreign bride, her country and its allies will come to her aide and ours, if we need them." And if her country needed help, well then, Macintosh's clan would have their chance to shine. That was his prideful side speaking though. The answer he voiced had its own mark of whose words they had really been since they were so humble. Yes, humble…his late wife was once the humble side of him. Now…

"Son…this is your duty. Like fighting to protect your people, marrying the lass to keep our line going is another way to protect them." Never had the lad disobeyed him. No, Vailean did as he was told and always seemed accepting of it, thankfully.

After a few moments, Vailean tossed his hair back and nodded, placing the crumpled letter back onto the desk. "If you say so, Father."

While it was true that Lord Macintosh enjoyed a good fight, he preferred it if it wasn't with his son. Happy with the way the talk turned out, he stood and clapped his hands together once. "Aye…then it's time for your sword practice." The younger Macintosh's chest puffed out, blue paint and all, as he smiled. Ah yes, time to show off his skills before the ladies. Up until a few months back, Vailean had been practicing in a place only the servants could see and while he enjoyed the attention of any female, status or not, he wanted more. So he had convinced his father to allow him in a more…public place where those who wanted to could walk to and cheer over his abilities. All he had to say was that those who were watching would take word to other lands of how grand their protection was in order to strike fear in the other clans, and his father all but jumped to agree.

And while the boy was out having his fun, it was time for the older man to ready for the arrival of Lady Evey Elward. Lessons were to be taught, manners to be known, titles to be said, rooms to be made…just another reminder that he was doing what a wife should do, and that he was still a widow.

* * *

Meanwhile, in England…

"Do not go back on our deal, Evey!" An older woman called out, almost shouted as she watched a younger version of her pace in the room. It was raining outside – when did it not in England? – which forced them to talk news in the common room rather than under a tree. "Each year, we renewed that deal: do your duties as according to your father's and I's definition, and you may continue to receive an education fit for a prince!"

The young lady that paced had her black hair free of the usual braids, tangled rather easily with each sharp turn her feet took. Her fingertips pressed to her temples, the same habit she had picked up from her mother in order to ward off a headache. "Mother, I understand but…so soon? A month from now? Why wasn't I told before?" Finally she stopped walking and set her accusing, desperate green eyes on Helena, the Duchess.

The woman pushed her own black hair back now streaked with gray – odd how a few of those streaks came just around the time that her daughter had started the education worthy of a prince. Her fingertips laced together only at the tips, she sighed gently. The way Evey was acting, so subdue with her own way of protesting, almost made her wish that the girl would stamp her feet and scream – much like she had longed to do years before her own betrothal. "We just sent a reminder and up until now, Lord Macintosh had yet to reply."

"When? When did we send a letter requesting a confirmation that I should be married there by the summer?"

Helena hesitated, wondering that as well. Usually it took just short of two weeks to communicate even when the Lord was busy…but a month? It was odd. What was even stranger was that Lord Macintosh hadn't indicated anything horrible that would explain his tardiness. "A month ago…but that does not matter now, Evey. Now is the time to prepare and pack…within a month, you'll be on the boat to Scotland. To your new future and husband."

This fact stated so simple and blunt stopped the girl in her tracks. It sounded so abnormal to her ears, which were more accustomed to hearing lessons, that she had to replay it a couple of times mentally.

The girl knew it hadn't truly hit her yet and when it would, she would be broken hearted. Taken from her family, tossed into a barbaric country with only a couple of her servants, to be wedded and bedded with a stranger all while being under scrutinizing watch, pressured to love and protect Scotland…and at the same time still represent her homeland. But broken hearted as she would be, she would carry on with her head held high and her dry eyes focused on the goal: success, no matter the cost or requirements. Whether that meant children, running the lands, or simply looking pretty…she would do it.

"Mother…" Evey swallowed as she closed her bright green eyes, "I will go."

"That doesn't come as a shock." Helena gave a small smile to take the edge off her sarcastic comment. "We raised you as the Lady your title implies. You know what your duties are. You know what to do for the sake of your family, our lands, and those that live on them. I've never had a single doubt in my mind that my only daughter would make me proud."

A watery laugh left Lady Evey, a catch in her throat stopping it quickly. When she could talk once more, she said, "I will miss your speeches, but I suspect they will appear in ten parchment letters! I will go and make the best of my new life…with one condition."

"Haggling like a cook in the market, are we?" Giving a chuckle, Helena added, "Just as your father taught you, never be cheated or tricked out of something you've worked hard for."

Evey paused briefly as it struck her how fortunate she was to have such understanding parents. For them to allow her a prince's education when she was a mere woman was quite unheard of. Even more so, to encourage her mind and to ask questions instead of sitting silently in the corner with needle and thread…that blessing wrapped around her tightly. "I want a copy of the betrothal agreement."

Now the smile the older woman had on twitched into confusion. "A copy? Why ever would you want a copy of it?"

Now it was Evey's turn to switch emotions. Trying her best to not appear as concerned as she felt, she shrugged her shoulders. "Some of the other girls…they have shared the unanimous opinion that Scotland is full of barbarians that wear skirts and nothing else. That they have no manners and are beasts who treat their hunting dogs better than they do their wives." The images she had unwillingly conjured up flashed in her mind. "I wish to see if there is a…a clause, a section that says there should be a divorce if my husband-to-be raises a hand against me."

Helena's blue eyes, the eyes that had caught the attention of the Duke Peter(?), her husband, widened like a tea saucer. Slowly she stood from her chair and walked to her daughter. "Of course there is a clause in the contract…we would never leave you in a foreign country with an abusive creature. Your father and I would petition the King of England himself if we had to get a fleet to gather you back in our arms." Her hands went to Evey's shoulders as if inspecting her attire before a ball. "My daughter…how long have you had this worry plaguing your mind?"

Weeks. At least a month since she had first told her 'friends' about her betrothal. But to tell her mother that…Helena would feel horrible as if she had failed in her job as a parent. So she lied. "Just a few days, but I am relieved to hear that."

With a smile on her daughter's face, Helena joined. "Anyway, the other Ladies you speak to know nothing past the fencing of their own yard! Lord Macintosh is quite kind and respectful; it is only natural for his son to be the same way. I have heard tales of how the Lord Macintosh courted his wife, how he paid her gifts even when they married. Romantic tales you'd expect only in those silly love novels. He loved her very much, so much that he hasn't remarried for over a decade."

Evey pictured it or at least tried. Such dedication between royals was so rare that it was almost unheard of. It was more common to hear that the daughter of an Earl had fallen for a common poet or that the son of a Baron longed for a bookkeeper's daughter. Perhaps this Lord's son would be the same way as his father was. It was enough of a thought, a hope, to make excitement blossom.

A soft knock at the door broke their own thoughts of this far-fetched love from Scotland. "Yes?" Helena called out.

In popped the head of one of their servants, a young girl about the age of fourteen. "Your Grace, Lady Evey, dinner is ready. His Grace requests your presence if you are both ready."

"We'll come right down, thank you, dear girl." Helena nodded as she turned away to straighten up the letters at her desk. They were all the letters sent from England to Scotland since Evey had been a child. One day, perhaps a few weeks after Evey would settle down in the new land, she would send her daughter them all so she could learn more of the men she was to be locked into a new family to.

Helena closed her eyes briefly as she sighed quietly. She knew the soon-to-be reality had yet to hit Evey fully. If it had, she would have realized that living in a new court meant new restrictions, expectations, and perhaps even a lack of freedoms. Perhaps even some of Evey's most prized freedoms, those worthy of only a male heir. To mention that now though after Evey had, for the time being, made peace with the situation…that would be just too cruel.

For now and throughout dinner, they would speak of the opportunities opening up to their daughter in a new world.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter shall be written soon. Again, I'm not too knowledgeable on royal titles no matter the country so I'm tweaking it a bit to fit the story.

Preview: Evey gets on the ship and travels. Both Macintoshs meet the girl that is soon to share their last name. What will Vailean and Evey think of one another? Plus, more personality/history on Evey, as well as more of an insight on how Magnus Macintosh rules his clan.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm toying with the accents as much as I can…hopefully they turn out well enough!

* * *

"If the wedding isn't till the summer, why is she comin' here in the middle of winter?" Vailean tossed up the apple into the air that he had intended to eat originally. That was, until his father brought up the topic of his betroth and the calendar. According to the letters, the woman was to already be on her way and arrive by ship within the next day or two. At this news, Vailean's sweet tooth died off rather quickly.

After dinner, the two often walked through the castle and to the outdoors where they would separate to their own business once the topics to talk of ran dry. Oddly enough, that happened rather quickly and usually as soon as their toes touched the grass. "It is tradition to welcome the bride early and teach her our ways. Better to do one thing at a time instead of pilin' up an endin' of her old life, startin' a new life, **and **a wedding."

For the next six months or so, the girl would learn their ways of life. When it came time to wed, she should, in theory, be more at ease with the idea. "And it gives the couple time to get to know each other. Used to be the first day they meet, they wed and bed and be done with it – total strangers." Magnus had been the lucky generation who started the recent tradition. He and his wife met by contract, of course, but as she learned the difference between her clan and his own (which was easy since she was already from Scotland; this English girl, he had his doubts about) he took that chance to make her fall in love. More than just her hand did he win…he earned her heart as well.

The walk down the last hall before the outdoors was a stroll of silence. While the older man was briefly lost in his past, the youngest one kept his eyes on his flickering reflection off to the side. With each stepped, his handsome self reflected off the many window panes allowing him to adjust his hair just right. Whether or not he heard his father's response was to be seen.

"When she gets off the ship, bow to her."

"Why aren't _you_ goin' to bow?" This act of humbling himself snapped his attention back to the conversation at hand. Vailean turned towards his father once they stepped outside. While the sun occasionally peaked out from behind the puffy clouds, the males still had the aftermath of the summer. That combined with their wild black hair and blue war paint made them stick out almost painfully against the fallen snow.

Inhaling the crisp, cold air allowed Macintosh time to bring on a smirk. "Because lad, I'm a Lord and you're a son of a Lord. She's a daughter of a Duchess. And I'm her future father-in-law…"

"Still doesn't explain why _I_ have to bow to her. She should bow to me!" How many people were going to be there watching?

They stopped at the middle of the garden right before the frosted over fountain. Magnus sighed and spoke while his breath still hung in the air, "_Both_ of you will bow. You two are equal, lad." It never occurred to him to talk to his son about how to treat a woman. "Treat her as an equal, treat her well." The mere idea of a woman being miserable in his household didn't set right with him. In fact, he felt that his late wife would be ashamed of him, of their son if he were the cause of the girl's unhappiness.

The young lord briefly had a nasty look across his face as if he had bitten into a cake that was too tart. Right, he'd have something to say about that another time. For now though… "Is that all, Father? I promised a show for…some friends." Girls. Yet saying that might just make his father frown…for some reason.

Lord Macintosh looked over at his son carefully, not suspiciously though he was starting to wonder if he should, before looking over the garden. Dead, of course, but everything from the dirt to the benches contained a layer of either ice, snow, or both. "Go." Better to have his son away from this place. Not the castle, no, but from the garden. The stillness and lifelessness of it all…it was no place for a young man about to wed. No place for anyone with a grand future ahead.

Vailean took off at the one worded permission, leaving his father standing before the fountain. It felt darker than what it was outside. In fact, he suddenly felt uneasy about having the Lady Evey come to his castle during this time of year. It was so cold, so dead, so…full of bad luck.

Would his son and the girl pick up where he and his late wife left off, full of love and joy? The winter howling wind said nothing promising.

* * *

~ Two weeks ago in England ~

The time from the first announcement of Evey's betrothal to her actual foot stepping onto the ship had been so busy and exhausting that she hadn't had time, or energy, to be alone with her thoughts. There was the issue of which servants to take since she was allowed only three. The issue of parties to attend given in her and her future husband's name. The issue of clothing for both winter and summer, as well as packing her things. The issue of how to act with the people there, how to address everyone. The issue of how a wife should act, although there was practically no talk except gossip (from her friends, not her mother) about the wedding night.

The list went on and on. By the time Evey was dressing the day of her journey, she noted she had lost weight from all the activity. She winced though, disliking the idea. It was said to be snowing over there now and she only had so many furs to cloak herself with.

That was one thing she did notice and that did cause her grief – only one of many things that would plague her on the ride over to Scotland with two weeks of being alone with her own thoughts. And that was rain. It rained nearly year round where she was. During the winter it snowed of course, but for some reason it had rained more than snowed the past few cold months. Maybe that was England's way of saying farewell?

While most people would think it was crying for her, she liked to think England's weather was giving her the best gift it could. For as long as she could recall, she loved the rain. The sound of it, the sight, the smell when it hit the country grass…it was so natural and pure. And it tasted great!

Not just that though, when she was younger her parents would let her go play outside in it. In her nice dresses, she would run in the mud and play in the puddles as it thundered and struck lightning. For a Lady to be allowed such play…it was one of her greatest freedoms.

But what if it didn't rain as much there? What if the rain felt, smelt, and tasted different, worse? What if it was highly frowned upon for her to even step foot outside, let alone stroll in it casually as she replaced with playing as she got older? And just like that, one of her childhood activities that had seen its way well into her adulthood would be gone. Just because of the different courts.

That was the least of her concerns though, at least for that day. When it was time to board the ship, she faced her parents and realized this might be the next time they met again might be many years, if ever again. Swallowing the lump in her throat at the idea, she spoke the speech she had rehearsed on her own.

"Mother…Father…it makes my heart ache to leave these lands, these walls that I've grown up only partly in, and to leave you both. At the same time, I am also excited at the prospect of writing back one day, sharing the joy and success in the marriage-to-be. I am proud and excited to show how well you both have raised me both by diplomacy, reading, and sword fighting…a prince's education. And best yet, I cannot wait to show them, my new family, that I can sew beautifully and play instruments as well as wield a sword. Thank you both so much…I will…miss you both terribly so." She wanted so bad to rush forward and hug them both, but it was frowned upon in public even from her.

Helena and the Duke both had tears swimming freely in their eyes, the only difference being Helena allowing them to fall. The rest of that moment was a blur, a happy blur, to Evey. Words were spoken, promises to write said, hand-squeezing in place of hugging…and then she was off. She was in the corner of the ship crying quietly so she wouldn't be tempted to cry later at Scotland. To rid the tears now in England and leave them, and her old life, behind so that she may start fresh in Scotland.

* * *

~Present, in Scotland~

The ship had been spotted miles away earlier that day. With a quick announcement to Lord Macintosh, most of the clan found themselves at the docks waiting anxiously. Well, most were at least. The young lord, Vailean, had his attention on the gaggle of female that tended to follow him quite often. It went without saying that there were many red eyes and sore hearts in that group of girls; their best looking man…to be married! Meeting his bride-to-be now! When his father wasn't looking, he would flex his pecks and flick his hair back, his chin always up in the air. It helped the girls keep swooning and stop crying for now at least.

There was still the issue of bowing. Granted that it was a mere bend of the waist, but before all of the clan…it did not sit right with Vailean. Daughter of a Duchess or not, the girl was in his land now and in this land, he was (would be) Lord one day! Why should he lower himself to that of a girl below him? Even as a wife, she would be a step under him. It was just her place.

The man next to him, his father, was quiet and staring at the ship intensely. He may as well be preparing for battle, facing the calm before the storm. Hopefully it wouldn't resemble that. In the letters that the Duchess Helena had sent, her daughter Evey was supposedly even tempered and kind, understanding. But who knew the truth in these letters? Macintosh was occasionally, rarely, sort of guilty of…stretching the truth, just a little.

Both men wore the same outfit. Up to their knees were fur socks, their kilts of warmer material in the color of red and black. They remained in their usual fashion of showing off their chests but had fur wrapped around to cover part of. On their chest, arms, and face, well at least Magnus' face, was the blue paint in their clans designs. They were prepared for whatever came next.

~In the ship~

Two weeks had flown by – was that good or bad? The reality of the situation really sunk in about the third day at sea. Her servants could only occupy her so much and her walks around the ship could only last so long before the same scenery (water, water, and water) got tiresome. So naturally her thoughts wondered to her future, mostly the bad thoughts, however, came to surface. No longer was she near her mother who, when Evey would start to feel a horrible thought come along and would glance up to Helena, would smile encouragingly.

But none of that was to be thought about now, not when they were docking. She would turn those worrisome concerns into questions that would be answered and not think an inch of them until then. It was difficult though since her servants were the ones doing the lifting which left her standing there, waiting.

None of that mattered though once the ship stopped and her entrance was demanded. Evey licked her lips, letting one of the other women fix her hair once again. "Remember, your best manners." Marian whispered before getting behind her in her place.

"Smile," Katherine added as she stood a few feet behind her Lady.

"And for God's sake, don't bring up your less-than-ladylike skills!" Jane hissed as she too stood behind her. Together, they formed a diamond; Evey in the front, Katherine behind her, Marian to her right, and Jane to her left.

In each of their hands lay a gift to the family of Macintosh. Evey cursed inwardly to see the fabric in her grip tremble, revealing her nerves. "Like what?" She snapped at Jane, suddenly wondering why she had wanted her candidness to this new world.

And they were off, walking onto land for the first time in weeks. All four ladies wobbled until they got their bearings, walking towards the crowd of people not too far off. "Just focus on your needlework, m'lady." Jane advised softly, hinting heavily what she should do.

Evey's eyes roamed over the pure white of the area, of the snow. It was stunning enough to make her step falter, her lips part in awe until her servants nudged her gently. Keeping her gaze straight ahead on the two people that seemed higher than everyone else, she kept her chin high and her hands still.

They were all a blur of red until they came closer, staining the red almost. While the servants wore simple browns and blacks, Evey wore a rich green to bring out the color of her eyes. The edges reached just above her ankles, fur wrapped around her neck and waist. The cut of her bodice was a square lined with pearls. Just the same, her black hair was braided into one large braid with pearls entwined. They stuck out against it, as would the snow had it been falling.

Closer and closer…they walked between the large crowd and up several stairs. "Good God, they _are _barbarians!" Jane whispered in horror.

"Silence!" Evey hissed from the corner of her lips.

"Their clothing…"

"Marian, hush!" But now that she had mentioned it…Evey glanced up and down the two males before her that were merely yards away. No doubt they did the same to her. There was blue paint in designs on their half naked bodies, the males showing part of their chests even in the cold weather. Barbaric indeed…

It was of great fortune that the ladies whispers hadn't been heard. Lord Macintosh smiled, oblivious to it all, as he spoke, "I am Lord Magnus Macintosh and this is my son, your betroth, Vailean Macintosh. We welcome you to our country and clan with open arms."

It was at this point that Vailean was supposed to bow. Actually, the moment had passed and it was meant to be when his name was spoken. Yet he stood straight up, looking down at the woman walking towards him. Proud and standing erect, he would not bow and even with his father elbowing him in the side, he would prove to be the dominate one. The one who should be respected.

This wasn't lost on the crowd and certainly not on Evey. She felt awkward and wondered if he had forgotten; though judging by the soft mutter across the crowd, it had not slipped his mind. Yet she would prove to be the better person and keep with tradition. As she stepped onto the platform, now at level with the two while her three servants remained steps below, she gave a deep curtsey.

As she did, her eyes met with what the two men wore: skirts. No, kilts, weren't they called? With fur wrapped up to their knees, they wore red and black kilts that oddly enough resembled something of an English fashion called a _skirt_. These men were wearing skirts.

It hadn't occurred to Evey just how long she had been in the curtsey position or, worse, how long she had been openly staring at Lord Macintosh's lower half. It had been long enough to make her servants fidget, obviously wanting desperately to give a tug to her dress. If they did, it would only draw more attention.

Magnus glanced down, noticing the pearls that were almost outrageously bright against her hair, the braid over her shoulder. Her ears were pierced with a grey pearl, he also noted. Along the way of her cut had pearls sewn on. Perhaps it was a symbol of her family? No, of her. But why? What was special about a pearl to her that she should be covered in their first meeting?

That was when he realized he had had time, perhaps too much time, to study her appearance that close. Ah, so she was staring at his kilt, was she? A confident, smug smirk came across his lips – it never dawned on him that that was where his son got his own pride from. Clearing his throat, he placed the tips of his fingers on her chin, gently pulling her to look up.

Her eyes were such a striking green, especially against her pale skin; being hidden from the sun had its effect on her. Or was she always like that? He had heard English women were quite pale. "Aye, that's enough respect for all of us." Lord Macintosh poked at her gently with his joke.

Just like that, those pale cheeks almost alarmingly close to the color of the snow around them flared with a pinkish hue. Her green eyes flickered away from him as she stood. Evey inhaled to get a hold of herself though her hands started to tremble under the gift she held without permission. "I am Lady Evey Elward, daughter of the Duke and Duchess Elward of Saxon. I and my servants thank you for the welcoming of your land and people, and present these gifts to your royal family." The speech slipped off her lips with ease, having practiced it for hours.

Another murmur amongst the crowd, even a raised eyebrow from Lord Macintosh – and the Young Macintosh, although his hair made it difficult to tell: her accent. It had to be how she sounded. While the Scots had their own way of pronouncing vowels and such, making it sound almost musical, she knew the English often sounded painfully sharp, clear. Swallowing, she continued with her speech. "As a way of showing my handiness with a needle, as well as prove useful in your family already, I present two quilts I made recently. My servants on my left and right hold them, one for both of you, m'lords. And behind me, another holds a book full of empty parchment that is thirsty for the ink of your splendors. Record all your tales and battles so they will never be forgotten."

It was at this point that Evey glanced to the young Macintosh, Vailean. Still, he did now bow. Still, he looked down at her as if she were a mere bug, as if she were a servant. Something about his standing posture set her off, but she quickly recovered, not wanting to show any negativity in their first meeting. "And for my betroth, my husband-to-be, I present to you a shield carved from the finest, strongest tree we have in England. Showers of rain make the tree as strong as an ox," another thing she would miss, the trees from the near-constant rain, "it will protect you in any fight." She held out the shield, holding her breath.

Vailean all but snatched it. Finally a use from this girl! A shield to practice with now, to use. Far better than the quilts her servants held for her. "It looks splendid," he finally spoke, looking it over with a close eye. When his father cleared his throat once more, Vailean looked back at his betroth. "Thank you for this gift. And, uh…welcome."

Evey gave a soft smile, her 'diplomatic' smile as she called it. As he looked it over, she took advantage of his distraction to look over him more closely. When her eyes landed on his sword, they lit up. A sword! She longed to reach out and grab it, to see how sturdy their metal was. To…

"I see my son's weapon has caught your attention." Macintosh puffed up as he spoke, drawing Evey's attention to the Lord's body. Like…a pear, almost. She tried not to smirk or smile as she looked up, already able to hear her servants giggling about him.

Evey nodded but before she could speak, Magnus continued. "Don't be frightened, lassy, he knows not to draw his sword to a fair lady."

Instantly Jane groaned quietly, already knowing what would happen. She went unnoticed for the most part though, for as soon as Macintosh tried to calm Evey down like a child frightened of thunder, her lady-like attitude went down. "Frightened? Hardly!" Evey stepped forward boldly and took Vailean's sword from his hip, ignoring how he jumped and gripped his new shield tighter. Her servants gasped and the look on Macintosh's face – a mixture of suspicion and amusement – snapped Evey out of her brief moment of outrage.

Swallowing she looked around at the crowd suddenly wishing they were alone. "I…was merely admiring the…craft of this weapon." She turned it in her hand, adding, "It looks as sturdy as can be, sharp as well." And no mention of how she could beat her husband-to-be to the ground with it, as Jane warned. No mention of the education fit for a prince that she, a daughter, had received.

Placing the handle towards Vailean, she tried to smile. "Your sword…"

Lord Macintosh watched his son slowly take it, clearly unsure of what had just happened. It would be a good time to respond, he decided. "Well then, off to the castle!"

Next chapter: Dinner and an evening getting to know everyone – translation, the Macintosh men boast to Lady Evey.


	3. Chapter 3

**I appreciate the reviews, Favorites, and Alerts! Glad to see my story is entertaining people! :) Thank you all!**

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The first week had passed so swiftly that it frightened Evey. While she was glad to be busy enough to never be bored, she felt as though she were going with the motions. Not really quite herself, dangerously close to be an empty shell…it frightened Evey, and that fright was the only emotion that kept her going.

When she had arrived to the Macintosh place, their dinner consisted of listening to the great war stories of Lord Magnus Macintosh and watching Vailean study himself in the reflection of his soup. As stimulating and mind boggling as it all was, Evey didn't offer much information about herself. Not at first, at least. Who knew what she might say and slip up on?

It was after the meal that her servant, Marian, warned her that Scots were quite famous for exaggerating their stories. Evey felt a bit of disappointment for she had imagined every word Macintosh said. To hear it was probably all lies…well, now she felt like she was in the King's court trying to decipher truth from fiction.

That sensation of being an empty shell was from the constant, rigid routine she was in. Read, sew, listen to the stories of the clan, lessons of the clan, and meals in between. Her feet ached from doing nothing, her body sore from minimum activity, and her mind was fuzz from boring words all day. While she had written a letter to her mother, she knew the servants were writing daily reports on her for the king's eyes. And that alone was enough to stop her from running outside and playing in the snow, poor excuse for the rain.

It was around noon when Evey was walking the halls, studying the portraits of past Macintosh men when a servant came along. "Lady Elward?" He squeaked while twirling the paper in his hands nervously.

Startled by the sudden noise, she glanced over and gave a soft smile. "Yes?" For some reason, servants were nervous around here. Perhaps it had something to do with Vailean and his temper that she had heard whispers about when she got there. And just like that, the copy of the betrothal agreement in her trunk glowed a bit brighter.

"Lady Elward, the Lord's son, Vailean, requests your company in the dining room."

As the servant led her away, she wondered….why? He had yet to show any interest in her since he had taken the shield, and even then that lasted all but thirty seconds. When she pulled his sword from him with such ease…well, that ended any attention he gave her rather quickly. When she wasn't in a lesson, she noted that the young man went often to practice his skills – how envious was she – before a crowd of mostly females.

Once again though, Evey had been so busy and overwhelmed that she hadn't had time to react to that discovery. So by the time they arrived in the dining room, confusion was written all over her face. "Vailean, good afternoon." Evey greeted while walking. She owed him no curtsey, no title, not after what he do (or didn't do) at their first meeting.

"Afternoon Evey." There was no food on the table so their conversation wouldn't happen over a good distraction, sadly. "My…father said we should be talkin', ya know, getting' to know each other."

She nodded at once. "Your father has a wise point. A good reason why we've met so early is to get to know each other. And so far I've just heard…stories of your bravery, but not so much about you."

Flicking his hair back, he sniffed and shrugged. "That's all there is, really."

Evey stared for a moment before shuddering. All but bravery, the need to fight and soak up the glory? "I…see."

"Have ya heard about the time I stopped the Northern invaders and, with one hand, vanquished a thous-…"

"I have, at dinner the first day I was here." One more time of hearing that story would drive her insane! Quickly though she tried to make up for the snap she released, "What about…what do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

For a moment, the young Macintosh seemed to be truly considering the question. He stroked his chin before swishing his hair back. "Hm…performing before a crowd of…people." Girls. Again though, he suspected his betroth wouldn't enjoy that.

Just as he opened his mouth to add on to that, Evey held up a hand. "As mind boggling as this is…I have suddenly come down with a headache. If you'll excuse me, Vailean, I think I'll go retire briefly in my room." With that being said, she all but ran from the dining room. Perhaps she could sneak a meal in her room instead of with the young man again.

* * *

Still using the same excuse of a headache, Evey found herself quite free for the afternoon the next day. No lessons, no servants spying on her…just…the chance to roam freely. Though the castle cut off any cold winds blown in by the winter, it was still chilly enough to encourage the use of fur.

Wrapped around the waist with it with fur stitched onto the ends of her blue sleeves, Evey traveled around the hallways. She paused when she heard swords clashing together, the sound making her shiver with want. Want to go out and draw a sword, to meet it with another and win the match. Like a siren singing, the swordfight drew her towards the window facing the inward courtyard.

It was Vailean fighting some older man, perhaps his teacher. Grunts and curses were exchanged as well as the clash of swords echoing in the crisp air. Evey crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the open window, sighing heavily in longing. Just as she started to chew on her bottom lip, a familiar voice spoke beside her. "To see a fair maiden sigh over her betroth like that with a frown is never a good sign. What's a matter, lass?"

Looking up at the noise, she pushed herself up from the window and curtseyed quickly. "My Lord Macintosh, I didn't see you there."

"Aye, when a Macintosh doesn't want to be seen, he isn't seen." He gave a light chuckle before stepping closer, glancing out the window as she had been. Evey kept her eyes on Magnus though, studying the blue markings on his shoulder, mistakenly thinking that he didn't notice. "Vailean isn't tryin' to ignore ya, lass. He's…"

Evey interrupted what might have been a very interesting speech that would have apologized for the spoiled son, "M'lord, I do not sigh over a boy. I sigh over the swords they use." Now it was her turn to look back at the window to the scene before them.

That wasn't quite the answer Lord Macintosh had expected. His blue eyes flickered over to the Lady, his brows knitted together with curiosity. "Swords, you say?"

There was a pause in which she realized what she had said, yet it was the pause that said it all. "Yes m'lord. The swords…I…" she shook her head, unable to lie yet unwilling to explain.

"Lady Elward, what about the swords make you look so miserable?"

Miserable. That word had her almost spin to meet his gaze, surprise making her green eyes big. Was that what she was feeling, was that what this emptiness was called? Swallowing, she averted her eyes to the floor briefly before looking back outside.

"It's just…that…back at home, I learned how to sew as well as to fight with swords." Her hands clasped together, the furry edges of her sleeve only covering up to her fingers. They twisted and squeezed to vent her nervousness. "Ever since I could remember, I've been taught blocking and attacking moves. In fact, when I was being taught the customary dances for balls, I was also taught how to use my feet in a match. Since I left for this place three weeks ago, I haven't touched a sword – except when we first met. I'm…missing it." Evey glanced up at her future father-in-law and swallowed once more. "I hope you don't find me too appalling or too unladylike to marry your son."

A roaring laugh was her response. Macintosh threw his head back, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Oh, so I have a fighter for a daughter-in-law, eh?" He slapped her between the shoulder blades, an action to show affection of sorts. "Why, I'd be proud to boast about that! Tell me lass, how well can you fight with a weapon?"

Evey jumped at his touch, not just his touch but the hit itself. It was alarming only because it was unexpected. And the way his eyes lit up with a challenge, excitement, made her heart race. Just like that, she was no longer a dainty, fragile lady in his eyes; she was an equal. Like her parents had raised her to be.

The realization made her smile until her cheeks ached, teeth shown and all. All the worries of not being able to do as she pleased, not being able to run outside or call a friendly dual with someone went away. By the looks of this so far, Lord Macintosh might even _welcome _such outrageous behavior. "Well enough to not have lost to anyone in the past several years, m'lord!" She took a page from his book and gloated, her hands on her hips.

"Aye? Well then, best to test that little statement! To the practice room with ya, let's go!" He started his way down the hall where it would lead to the room where weapons were practiced with. Evey stared for a moment, unsure of what just about. "Well lass? Come on!"

The woman picked up the edges of her skirt and ran to catch up with him, her lips parted to show her confusion. "Uh, the practice room? Perhaps I don't quite understand, but do you mean to…fight me?"

"I mean to take my sword to yours and see how rusty you've gotten!" Macintosh kept up his strut as he looked at his side to the frazzled Duchess. "If using a sword to try and beat me is what will make ya become alive again then I see only one solution! I won't have a woman unhappy in my castle if I can help it."

The words sunk in as she followed, her brows furrowed. When they got to the large practice room, the dome structure ensuring there would be much echoing, it sunk in that he meant to fight her. A dual with Lord Macintosh! Evey giggled, excitement rushing through her limbs.

Picking up a sword that looked about the right weight and size, the Lady turned and looked around. Grand open space for them to move. She adjusted her dress, the skirt threatening to prove a nuisance – perhaps that was why her servants packed it for her. "Shall we do a Three Strike, m'lord, or just till one of us admits defeat?" She asked as she practiced a few moves, lessons not forgotten after the past few weeks.

And there it was, the famous Macintosh grin that said arrogance and overwhelming pride. "Three Strike? That'd only make my winning quicker! No, let's fight til one of us admits defeat!" He gave a wink to suggest that it wouldn't be him right before he raised his sword.

Evey put her own up across to block it, her body tense; she had no idea how the man fought and was at a great disadvantage if she played defense. Yet if she were to play offense, the tables would have turned. The clank of metal slamming together was heard several times as their wrists moved every which way, their weapons meeting in almost a dance.

It became a blur of excitement near instantly, a good sign that Evey hadn't lost her touch or love for the game. Both of their breaths were labored, sweat forming on their backs. Evey grimaced as she used her spare hand to unclip the fur around her waist, yelping when the action distracted her just enough to nearly get her ear swiped off, tossing the warm belt away from her.

"Ready to admit defeat, lassy?" Macintosh shouted as he watched her move a bit faster. Perhaps that wrapping of hers had been weighing and slowing her down. A frightening and exhilarating thought, for she was already pushing him to keep up. He longed to kick off the socks that were keeping his legs rather hot by now, but focused at the task at hand.

Grunting as she stumbled a step back from the force of his blocked blow, Evey panted, "With all due respect, m'lord, it is **Lady **Elward, not 'lassy'!"

A throaty chuckle left him as he grinned cheekily. "Ready to admit defeat, 'Lady' Elward?"

"I'll make you a deal!" Evey brought her sword down on what should have been Macintosh's head when it met his own sword. "_When_ I win, you can start calling me Evey – no 'lady' or 'lass'!"

"And when _I_ win, what do I get?" Macintosh spun and tried to slice at her legs. Evey jumped up to dodge but when she landed, she stumbled back. It had been quite some time since she had to move in such a manner in the shoes she wore.

Evey felt herself start to falter, but the idea of winning against the man fueled her. "You get to hear your name spoken by me if you win!" It was a bold move, a frightening one almost to suggest and imply a sort of comfort/personal level with the man. To claim she would speak his first name without any title was a risk, but then again she was crossing swords with him; what could possibly be another shock?

There was another moment of clanking that filled the room before Magnus gave his response. "Deal!" With that word spoken, another yelp followed from Evey's lips. She was getting tired and that wasn't good, the heat of her dress and workout getting to her. It didn't matter how many tricks or foot patterns she knew, if she got tired she would lose.

The girl grimaced as she pushed herself though, an idea striking her, so to speak. At the next swipe, she ducked and rolled to the man's side just behind him. Her feet caught on her dress, a cry leaving her as she tried to stand and succeed only in stumbling. As he turned though, she swung in a last desperate hope while struggling to even crouch without ripping her dress.

The blunt side of her sword met his body and it was only when he dropped his sword and jumped around crying out did she open her eyes. Lord Macintosh held his bottom as he bounced around. Evey covered her mouth as she left the sword of the ground, standing after jostling her skirt. Trying not to laugh, she spoke, "My…my lord?" It took a few moments but when he finally stopped, when the sudden pain went away into a dull throb, she added, "Do you admit defeat, m'lord?"

Macintosh pushed his wild hair back, the sweat from their exercise making it stay down a bit more than normal. "Aye, I'm afraid I do. You've got quite the speed…Evey. With a bit more practice, we can perfect your skills."

Although her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the room, and the confines of her dress, Evey blushed darker at her name. She gave a quick curtsey to use the excuse to look down. Her heart fluttered though not in the same way it had when she had picked up the sword. "Thank you for the compliment, m'lord. It would please me so much if I were allowed to practice daily?"

"Aye, daily, and under my eye – so long as I'm not away at battle or politics." Crossing his arms, although he was careful in moving his legs thanks to the stinging reminder of his crushing defeat, Macintosh continued, "And since I'll be ya teacher, I think it'd be best if ya stopped callin' me 'My Lord' and start callin' me by my first name."

Not for the first time, Evey's jaw dropped. She quickly recovered though her eyes were still bewildered. Not only was he, the great leader of the Macintosh clan, offering to teach her to fight, but he was allowing her to call him without any titles. Swallowing, she nodded and breathed, "If you say so, Magnus." The name sent chills down her spine as she spoke it, wondering if it occurred to the man before her as well. "Thank you very much!" Her smile leaked into her tone, her voice, "You've no idea how happy you've made me!"

When she went to bow again, she noticed how warm and slick her neck was. She made to grab her hair that should have been wrapped in a braid-bun, but instead felt a handful of strands. Somehow between their clashing of swords her clips had failed her and had given her a wild sort of look. Desperately brushing it all into one hand, trying her best to twist, curl, and hide it in a bun, she gave a weak grin.

As she turned to go back to her room, partly to keep up the appearance of a headache she had pleaded and partly to fix her hair, a long strand of cream pearls fell from her hair and onto the ground. Every other one was a soft pink, the color catching Macintosh's eye against the gray stone floor. Picking up the strand, he looked after the fading figure and twisted the hair twist in his hand. Pearls yet again…why?

* * *

Preview: Evey witnesses Vailean's harsh temper at losing, a talk of said temper is made between Lord Macintosh and the Duchess. Just as well, she learns more about the clan starting with their symbol: a lyre. Musical talents and stories galore…


	4. Chapter 4

Within the next two weeks, a handful of lessons took place but this time with a sword instead of a map. Her teacher was indeed Magnus Macintosh those few times, and when he was off dealing with the other clans or King, there were no sword lessons. It was a good balance, Evey decided, grateful to even be wielding the weapon in a foreign land.

And when she was unable to train with the oldest Macintosh, she tried her best to spend time with the younger one, her betroth. Most of the time it was watching him train or the like, something she kept noticing was that he never 'lost' against his teachers. If he was truly that good, she mused, why did he keep the teachers on? Or were they letting him win? She had heard the whispers of his rage...

Bit by bit though, she learned something new about him every day. For example, Vailean only liked to be alone when he was practicing a new skill, therefore messing up. Otherwise he always had to have an audience one way or another. Perhaps her watching him when he was 'alone' was still his way of having an audience whether he was aware of it or not.

All of his training, however, had a purpose though. One afternoon Evey was lead to a seat on a stage with the older Macintosh and a few others. She gave a small curtsey, as did her three servants behind her yet again forming the diamond shape, before taking her seat. "M'lord, good afternoon." She looked up to her right to the lord of the clan. Beside and behind her sat Jane and the others, all the girls looking over anxiously at the land covered with frost and snow. "I've yet to be informed about the nature of this event." In her own way, Evey objected to the surprise. How was she to learn the clan's customs if they told her nothing?

"Afternoon, Lady." Macintosh said with a hint of distraction; while the girls gaped at the snow, his eyes were trained on the spectacle of the entire show. "Aye, that's to be my fault. I had to move the fight early for it would have landed on the same day as yer weddin'!" He looked over at the young lady. "It's a yearly tournament to see who can best one another. My son has come out on top every time against the other lads!" Macintosh spoke the last part a bit louder, gloating with his teeth-bearing grin.

Evey glanced out to see the blue-covered finacee of hers and gave a small smile. "Oh, it's like the jousting torments in England!" She pulled her hankerchief from her sleeve but at realizing no man would come to take it or to wear her colors, she quickly pretended to dab at her eyes though the soft blush on her cheeks gave away her foolishness. "What do they do here?"

Magnus caught the excited action turned into a pause. He kept his smug little grin on as he looked over her, enjoying, perhaps too much, the blush that her cheeks warm. "Archery, log-throwin', sword fightin', and the like. Tell me lassy, how's your arm at shootin' arrows?" Although they had agreed to call one another by their first names, somehow doing so in public wasn unspoken off-limits thing.

The last time he had asked how her arm was at something, they had fought with swords. Almost tripping over her speech in haste, she responded, "N-not at all good, I mean, I couldn't...participate or...anything of the sort, if that's what you mean, m'lord."

The man gave a robust laugh while slapping his knee before speaking. "No, that wasn't what I meant at all! Only the clan men can try for this tournament! We train our boys and make sure they're up to the Macintosh standards every year so that, if we need to, we can destroy others - like the Dingwalls - with half as many as their men!" He turned back to the field where they would start with log throwing, the biggest feat to the smallest one in order. Evey gritted her teeth at the man's words and wondered if he had intentionally humiliated her then and there. Perhaps it was something to blame on culture differences.

First, the clan's flag was placed into the hard ground - or was attempted to be placed in the frozen ground. In the end, two men held the column. As Evey studied it, she noted there was a symbol in the mess of blue. "What is your clan's symbol, Lord Macintosh?"

"Hm?" His eyes flickered towards the flag before going back to the men at hand, some of which were struggling with the semi-frosted logs. "The lyre."

"The liars indeed!" What an appropriate name for these men! Their stories, as she had learned, were mostly built off hyperboles and great ones at that!

Macintosh froze much like the ice underneath their makeshift stage, his back straightening. He slowly turned to the English woman, his wild hair making his harsh gaze a bit more demented or angry - or the other way around.

While it took Evey a moment to realize what had just happened, Jane, the sharpest of them all, caught on instantly. She cleared her throat and muttered softly, "No, m'lady, he meant the instrument, lyre."

This one a flood of brilliant ruby hue went over her pale face. "OH!" She exclaimed loudly, covering her mouth a second too late. "Uh..." she searched quickly for a diplomatic recover for her mistake. "I-I have heard so much about your great fighting, I mean to say, that I should very much like to hear the musical abilities you and your people possess." Did she dare exhale? This must have been the face Magnus wore to battle, she decided, for it was quite intimidating if not frighten.

There was the first log tossing; he heard it since he couldn't see it thanks to the loud crack of ice and wood breaking. He leaned to the side, closer to Evey before speaking lowly, "It isn't wise, Lady Elward, to be callin' the clan that's hostin' your stay a pack of liars."

Ah, so her diplomatic answer hadn't worked. Lovely. She suddenly wished to switch places with Jane or Marian or anyone hiding far, far behind Macintosh. She had her eyes on the games but saw nothing, unable to look at the man next to her. She clasped her hands together, the fur-laced edges of her sleeves hiding them. Much like the man, she was rather rigid as well, hardly daring to breathe. "My sincerest apologies, Lord Macintosh. I meant nothing by it except the foolish misunderstanding of those ears that haven't seen a true battle, and therefore cannot judge a story's merit." It was unnerving to have the man, who up till now had been so kind and lively the past few weeks, turn so serious so swiftly.

Another log was tossed. A cheer from the crowd. Slowly Macintosh turned back rightfully in his seat before answering, "It's forgiven this once, Lady Elward." And only once, Evey heard the unspoken warning. She glanced at Jane who kept her head up and eyes forward, offering no sympathy. Marian, however, gave a small, sad smile before nodding for her to imitate Jane. Inhaling deeply, Evey turned back around, her black hair falling over her shoulder, braided with simple ribbons this time, as she watched the tournament take place.

So far, her betroth proved to be rather worthy in strength. She gave a grin to him when he looked over, noticing how he had only looked at the stage in his passing to watch his fan club scream with cheers. Had she not been on thin ice already, so to speak, Evey would have rolled her eyes. Yet to be in public, she merely ignored it, hoping it would stop soon enough.

The events went on, all the men proving to be quite the challenge. It was only when they reached archery did something go wrong. Vailean's arrow soared sharply through the cold air, but it hit just a few inches from the target. Instantly he flew into a rage, shouting a mourning wail as if his best man had been sliced in two. He slammed his bow into the ground, breaking it rather easily. Evey didn't notice how the crowd reacted, for her own response was too consuming. She recoiled at the sight, the sound, and found herself shrinking in her chair. One glance at her ladies, who also showed signs of shock and horror, slowly morphing into worry for their lady, proved she wasn't overreacting – like Vailean was.

So that was the famous temper she had heard about. Evey struggled to swallow, the struggle to sit up straight and proud as if nothing had happened even greater. Already she had turned her body away from the sight and god only knew how she looked. It was only when Jane pinched her arm and gave a sharp glance back at the field did she forced herself to move. Staring straight ahead, her face as emotionless as it got (though her green eyes were lit with great worry), she tried not to let the horrors of her mind get to her.

What if she bested him in something? Would he get this angry and...she shivered, hoping to blame it on the cold rather than fear. What if he lost to someone else or something else and took it out on her when they married, in their bedroom? Evey could feel her blood drain from her face; what if he didn't use his fists, but other ways, bed ways to express his rage?

What a horrible day this was so far! She had either witnessed or faced the Macintosh men's tempers, both frightening. But to stand and leave suddenly, playing the ill card or not, would bring negative, unwanted attention to...well, to everything. Instead, she pressed herself against the chair as much as possible and resisted the urge to both hug her legs and look over at her servants for distraction.

By the time they moved on with the next contestant, Magnus glanced back at Evey and realized that she, unlike the rest of them, wasn't desensitized to his son's fits every now and again. He watched her for a moment longer before giving an inward sight, wanting to run a hand through his hair. Another mess he'd have to clean up after.

Once the tournament was over, with Vailean being the winner no surprise there, Evey stood on unstable legs. Clearing her throat, she tried her best to give a winning smile to her betroth, who luckily only look briefly at her, before turning to Macintosh. "Magnus, might I retire for the night? I don't feel well; my head is starting to hurt again." Not really a lie, the headache slowly starting up.

The man stood as he applauded for his boy, the woman's shaky voice catching his attention. He turned to face her, really studying her this time. She looked as if she had been the one beaten and broken instead of Vailean's bow. "Aye, let me escort you to your room, Evey." With the attention no longer on them, he offered her his arm.

Glancing over at her servants, she nodded. "Prepare a hot bath and tea for me, please." When the three left on a head start, the Duchess took his arm and walked off the stage with him. As they sorted through the guards and towards the castle, she noticed suddenly how frosty the grass was. She wanted to lean forward and touch it; hope that it would melt in her hand…but that wouldn't be the same as rain. "Magnus," she finally spoke after the silence got to be too much, "I…I'm not sure what to say." Her green eyes kept to the ground as they walked with one hand on his forearm and the other on the inside of his elbow. "Today has been…so draining." At that, her shoulders slumped now that they were out of the public eye.

"Vailean isn't always like that, lass." He spoke about what he suspected what was bothering her. "When he gets in his…moods…he very rarely ever takes it out on another person."

Evey had trouble swallowing once more. With her grip tightening a bit, she looked over at the man and said a bit harshly, choked up really, "If he ever lays a hand on me or treats me in an unjust manner, I will pack my things and sail right back to England! All of the money and land in the dowry will be gone with me. It's in the contract." When she managed to calm down, she added quietly, "I won't accept even a hand raised to me. It is barbaric, the practice of striking a woman. Or anyone, for that matter."

Instead of entering the castle, however, Magnus pulled her to the side, his hands on her shoulders. She looked startled, her breath coming out in a cloud form. His hand brushed against her braid, something to catch his attention as a distraction briefly. "I know that, Lady. I was the one to suggest a thing like that. You must trust me to…"

"That isn't really helpful, m'lord!" Evey broke the polite rules of speech and grabbed his wrists, staring up earnestly. "I was told of how much you loved your wife, how you courted and respected her…and even now, your widowhood of a decade is testament to that. Perhaps I was foolish for hoping that Vailean would follow in your footsteps, but surely I shouldn't be expected to handle the possibility of the very opposite, of violence!"

This was where Macintosh stopped all together. He slowly pulled his hands away from her, her own hands falling from the grasp. As if in a dream, he stared at her, replaying her words. Ah, his wife…he closed his eyes briefly, the image of her smiling face flashing in his mind.

Evey grimaced, biting her bottom lip briefly. "Magnus…please forgive me for a second time today…I spoke without thinking yet again. I did not mean to cause you any pain or…"

Magnus held his hand up, silencing the girl. When he opened his eyes, he sighed and shook his head. "Don't apologize for bringing up the memory of a great woman, Evey." A pause. "I'll…talk to my son about his little display today. It won't be acceptable anymore." Still, his expression, his eyes, his tone…all were softer, down now. "In the meanwhile lassy, you need that hot tea and bath more than ever. You look half frozen where ya stand."

Evey swallowed before nodding, taking his arm once more. As they walked into the castle that was full of the heat from many fires, she still felt that coldness from outside creep into her bones. No, not from outside…from the tournament.

* * *

Preview: When Magnus is out on business, Evey gets restless and decides to ride a horse through the area. All would have been fine and dandy had said horse not tossed her rather viciously into a wall. Vailean proves to be a savior and healer – of sorts.


	5. Chapter 5

There was only so many days that Evey could stand to be cooped up in the warm, stuffy castle without feeling even the slightest bit of claustrophobia. And it was on the sixth day of such confinement, mostly thanks to Lord Macintosh being away at another clan's castle, that she gave in and started to roam. Oddly enough when she tried to visit with her betroth, he would always run away for some reason or another. It made her wonder if he even wanted her, liked her…why else would he avoid her like a plague, near her only when forced to at meals?

One day soon enough, though hopefully not too soon, this castle and the lands around it would belong to her. Lady Macintosh…she shivered in her fur-lined dress, her gaze running over the bare walls. Had they always been so bare? Missing a female's decorate touch? And where were the portraits? One would think that with the Macintosh males…pride that there would be dozens around the halls. Perhaps it was Lady Macintosh who had been responsible for all of that and now that she was gone…how had she died?

The questions piled up quite abruptly and were only stopped when the common messenger appeared around the corner. "Ah, Duchess!" With a bow, he approached her freely. For the past few times, Albert had been the one who traveled to and fro England with letters between the Elward family members. Naturally there was a sort of friendship between them by now. "I bring you a letter and the most interesting gift!"

"Gift, Albert?" Evey met him half way before taking the letter, noticing how he held something behind his back. "From my parents?"

"Yes, my lady…though I sorely wish I was the one who had a gift to give you." It was the wink that signified it was the usual joke from the messenger.

Evey grinned and shook her head, teasing lightly, "Careful or they might think you fancy me." Tearing through the wax seal of her family, she scanned the contents quickly.

_Dearest Daughter,_

_The halls have been so quiet since you went to your new family that your father finally suggested that we visit the beach. I wasn't sure if I could handle that, going to the docks where we parted last. I was certain I was going to cry in front of all the people! _

_Luckily, I felt no sadness that I couldn't conquer but only pride and hope. Pride for how well you handled this entire thing and hope that you should be happy in this life as Lady Macintosh. We cannot be happier for you, both your father and I._

_In response to your earlier letter about your betroth avoiding you…it is just nerves, I am sure. To be near someone as beautiful and as strong as yourself, any boy would get tongue-tied. Give it time and he will come around. And I am both infuriated and relieved to hear Lord Macintosh has accepted and even fostered your ability to sword fight. But as long as he and the people accept you, it matters not what you do and do not do. _

_It started to rain when we arrived at the beach. I remembered then how much you loved English rain. I am sorry to hear it has yet to rain there yet, but I've heard their spring is much like our year-long weather: rain, rain, and more rain._

_With this letter, I have sent a gift: a jar of sand that was pelted with the English rain you so love. I hope it reaches you well._

_Your Mother,_

_The Duchess Helena of Saxon_

When her gaze left the letter and back onto the messenger, the tightly-closed jar of damp sand was being presented. Her lips parted and as she took hold of the gift, she felt for the briefest of seconds that it wasn't winter but summer at the beach. Perhaps when it got warmer, they all could take a trip there, sleep out for a night or so.

…Or…better yet…why wait?

"Thank you Albert. If you'll excuse me." She went towards the stables while giving an order to a passing servant to bring her a jar. Within minutes she had her heavy cloak around her and a scarf to cover her mouth, tying the jar to her hip.

Telling one of the stable men to pass on her location, the beach, to her servants (for by the time they heard and would try to protest, she would be long gone) she rode off. It wouldn't take much to figure out where the beach was. The Macintosh castle, as she noticed from a map from her lessons, rest closest to the ocean compared to the others.

The cold wind hurt despite the scarf and cloak, but she only leaned closer against the horse so that it wouldn't hit her that much. She planned to fill the jar with Scottish sand and send it back, perhaps mention how the land that Evey was on now was closer to her parents. Something like that.

And besides that, she just wanted to ride! To get away! To feel free!

The horse went at a decent pace, fast enough to get her to where the air started to smell like the ocean and yet not too fast to be exhausted. When they arrived, she pulled gently on the reins so he'd slow down. "Beautiful." She commented, sliding her scarf down. Her breath came out in little puffs as she scanned the body of water, a smile on her face.

She went to reach for the jar tied to her waist and jump down when something caught her attention. She glanced to her left and spotted a black cloaked figure on a horse. Just standing there at first. What was he doing? She clicked her tongue for her own ride to move, but as soon as she did, he followed.

Just like that, it hit her: she was a daughter of an English Duchess that was to marry and become Lady Macintosh, ruler of the clan one day. And she was riding at the beach. Alone. With hardly anyone knowing where she was.

A cold sweat broke out over her skin though she gripped the reins tighter and gave a sharp snap, "Yah!" She sped up though she risked a glance behind her, the person wrapped up almost as heavily as she was. If that was a kidnapper, she wondered, why was there only one? Or was it as impulsive as a grab as her decision to ride out here, at least an hour away from the castle? Either way, she didn't want to find out.

She turned back and felt her hood slid, her black hair now flying freely. The sand under the horse's hooves proved to be a disadvantage, unless she didn't know how to ride him properly on the shore. The masked man behind her, however, certainly did. He was gaining on her and swiftly too! Evey suddenly wished she had brought a sword instead of the jar at her hip.

The moments felt like minutes, agonizingly long though somehow the masked man seemed to penetrate that with ease. He was riding faster and faster, though he made no move to reach out and grab her just yet. When she glanced back, her green eyes wide, he was just behind her. Then he shouted something, a guttural sort of sound that Evey had never heard of before. Just like that his shout caused her horse to stop rather abruptly, sliding in the sand but for the most part keeping his legs still.

Her own yelp was heard as she was tossed off the animal, flying almost though she tried to grab onto something more than air. It was just a little sand though, what could the harm be? Maybe even she'd even slide into the cold ocean water that was washing up to lick the shore. So what was the problem, really?

Well…Evey's brief thoughts of looking for the silver lining were cut short – literally.

When she landed and rolled, the jar at her hip took most of the impact and yet cushioned nothing. In mere seconds she felt a wall of pain hit her, her right hip burning. She rolled a few times from the sudden landing, stopping partly in the water that washed up lazily. Evey looked to the gray sky, the entire thing spinning before her, only to spot the masked man leaning over her. Her hair was covered in sand and wrapped around her neck, her vision blurring from the tears that were pushed up from the water licking her new wounds; salt, salt everywhere.

The man took off his wrappings and…

_Vailean_.

It was Vailean! And on his handsome face wasn't the trademark smugness but rather horror and worry. Evey lost her vision just for a moment but when she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the bloody sand and water, but on a horse. Someone was screaming…it sounded like a horrible, blood curling scream…who?

It took Evey a moment to realize it was her. She tried to twist, to turn from the grasp of the man, more than likely Vailean, behind her as if unaware they were moving. He said something, shouted it more like it, but no words registered in her mind. Luckily, darkness took over.

* * *

Crackling of wood filled the air along with the warmth that it created. There was a dull ache on her right side but it was hard to notice it since the quilts kept her quite toasty. Bit by bit Evey was coming into consciousness and noticing the senses more than anything. It was only when she opened her eyes did she realize she was awake, alive even.

The fire burning nearby cast shadows, the window kept shut. It must have been dark already, she guessed, for they never had curtains covering the windows. She made a soft noise as she twisted her head around, her arms moving like stones in her attempt to push off of her forearms. A bed…she was on a bed. It was hers, she realized with a start. How could she have possibly forgotten what her room looked like?

Because she had dreamt of her old room, her English home, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. There were only fragments of the dream, nothing note worthy, but certainly enough to warp her subconscious mind. She was in Scotland, she reminded herself, to marry. And she had just ridden in the cold to the beach that was so close by – the cold unfathomable since she was so warm.

And she had been tossed by the horse, chased by…

"Are all ya Brits sumphy*?" A sharp voice caught her attention, the owner off by the corner closest to the fire. He was enclosed with shadows as the cloak he had worn earlier.

Evey winced as she slid her body against the pillows behind her, her side no longer a dull throb but a sharp reminder of the beach. Trying to relax some, she asked, "What does," she coughed, her throat parched, " that mean, 'sumphy'?"

Vailean stood and approached while pouring a glass of water from the pitcher nearby. The light shined on him and while he lacked the waod, the blue paint, he still looked intimidating. Evey took the water and sipped it slowly, her head resting against the headboard. As she put the glass onto her thigh, her gaze drifted down his body.

They were alone, the door shut with her in her bed and Vailean…well, being that close to the edge of said bed. She swallowed audibly and tore her gaze from his stomach. Despite his frown, there was a familiar spark of arrogance in his blue eyes. He puffed his chest out a little more, hopefully a subconscious reflex for if he intended to scowl at her while doing that…the scowling wouldn't do much good.

"It means 'stupid'." He explained before adding on, "What were ya thinkin'? Ridin'out on the land without me? Without a guard?" Though his words were meant to be angry, harsh, he sounded more exasperated than anything. How long had she been unconscious and how long had he been sitting there like a statue? It must have been hard, she reasoned, for him to sit there without a pair of eyes raking over him for more than a few minutes.

While his current tone could not inspire fear in her like his display of rage at the tournament did, or even how his father could, she understood the situation enough to be respectful, yet not cower. "I received a jar of sand from my mother, sand from the English coast. I wanted to gather some sand from your – this country and send it back to her." Saying it out loud suddenly made her feel and sound childish. Quickly she added on, "And I grew bored being cooped up in this castle. It's cold and unfeeling without people to talk to – and servants do not count. Since your father is gone and you are constantly, ah, out…" she shrugged but was careful not to have any accusation laced in her tone.

"Ya should be happy that I was on my way to the stables when I saw you ridin' off." He remained standing although the bed was rather spacious. To keep things from being too improper, she imagined.

"Wait just a second!" Evey exclaimed as reason came back bit by bit. "I was doing perfectly well and safe on my own until you spooked me! What did you shout to make the horse stop suddenly?" She had been outdoors enough to know most animals had a key phrase to stop or go, depending on their master. "If you hadn't shouted that…nonsense, I wouldn't have been thrown and I would not be lying in bed with my hip sliced up in several places!" She placed the water off to the side on the nightstand, crossing her arms under her bosom as she glared up as effectively as she could.

At first, Vailean's expression flickered. But then he shook his head and crossed his own arms, both of them looking quite immature though neither pointed it out. His hair still covered one eye though the other visible one looked more annoyed than anything. "If I hadn't called out for the horse to stop, you'da ridden yourself into the arms of a _real_bad man! The roads aren't safe for an English lass."

Evey gritted her teeth. He had no idea how handy she was with a sword, did he? Of course, it would have helped her if she had BROUGHT a sword to begin with…or maybe she would have impaled herself with it. Either way, the situation was as it was and it couldn't be changed. "How long was I asleep?"

With her body leaning back and unwinding from her tense position, Vailean followed suit and took it as the subject being closed and changed. He slid one leg onto the bed with part of the rest of his body, sitting on the edge. "A bit over a day. They were worried ya would get a fever, bein' in that water! I suppose the water helped the wounds though…all the shards are out. Now ya just need to heal up."

Evey's face warmed and she suspected it had nothing to do with the fire in the closed room, especially when Vailean's hand brushed against her knee when he moved to lean back on his hands. Though he didn't seem to notice too much, his gaze on the walls. "How long were you watching me sleep?" She managed to sound steadier than she felt.

Vailean did a sharp head movement and blew from his pursed lips, his hair brushed from his face without so much as touching it. "Few hours…" he admitted quietly. "I was thinkin' of how Da was gonna react to the news…and it occurred me, I don't…really know ya." He had recalled his father telling him that the six months or so in between her arrival and the wedding was meant for courting, and yet he had barely spoken a sentence to her.

Evey did not object to that or try to deny it. She only knew a few things about him through others, not from him. It felt unfair, unnatural even. So why not start now since she'd be laid up for a while? "Thank you…for saving me." She shifted her weight, or tried to, with the result being a sharp wince. "What else can you do besides the sports, Vailean?"

Vailean opened his mouth to speak but instead realized there wasn't much. Then an idea struck him. Instead of saying it, he would show her. He got and left abruptly, so abrupt that Evey stared at the place he had been for a few moments. By the time she looked around, the young man was back. In his hands was…a lyre! At her confused look, Vailean held up a finger to request her silence. With that finger, as he sat back on the edge of her bed, he started to strum.

Notes filled the air, the music as enchanting as the man who played it. One wouldn't look at the young Macintosh and see a musician, yet that appeared to be one of his hidden talents. Evey smiled as she listened, closing her eyes a little. It was an instrument she hadn't heard in ages.

Instruments…her mind flashed back and her heart ached. The musician back in England…

Minutes must have passed for Evey allowed herself to be engulfed in the music, her thoughts of the past man she once flirted with held off. When he stopped, her green eyes met his. Her hand reached out and took hold of his, her smile gentle. For the first time since they met, she praised him honestly. "You have such talent, Vailean…beautiful and…alluring."

It pained her to lean forward, literally, and pained her mentally not to be able to do that. Yet he caught on and with the lyre, his clan's symbol, in his lap, Vailean closed the distance between them. Their heads tilted, their lips parted and their lids just starting to close when…

"If she isn't awake by now, I think we might have to get some of that snow outside and…OH!" Katherine the servant had nudged the door open with her hip as she spoke to someone behind her. "Oh my goodness…I…I didn't know you were awake m'lady, I…uh…this…this is highly improper! I mean, I'll just…leave." Katherine all but ran out of the room, leaving the moment in ruins.

While Jane was the stern, sturdy one, Katherine tended to be more of the…well-meaning-but-clumsy sort. And Marian was just plain kind, a friend. Evey sat there wondering if that was the worse reaction that could have been said to their almost kiss. Before either could speak, however, or even finish pondering of what-could-be-worse, a familiar voice spoke up for the first time in days.

"Aye, improper indeed! As proud as I am to see my son makin' his betrothal swoon, I have to say this is a bit much! Lad, what are you doin' in her room alone? And Evey…what's this I ride into to hear how you tried to run away? Do we treat ya that bad, lassy?" Lord Macintosh!

Vailean stood up instantly, lyre in his hand. Evey tried to do the same or at least jump up in surprise, but the wounds at her side pulled sharply. Instead she just yelped and fell back against the pillows, her hand darting to her right side just to check if she had reopened any of them. "M'lord! We-welcome back, you've been sorely, ah…missed." She sat up as much as her body would let her, a warm pink across her face.

"I was just watchin' her to make sure she wouldn't get worse." The son protested quickly, the eye uncovered from his hair looking away.

"Aye, and where does the lyre and the little kiss come in?" Macintosh teased.

Vailean hid the instrument behind his back before flicking his head to the side, his hair moving briefly. "Just entertain' our guest…"

"It wasn't a kiss; you walked in before it could…happen." Evey pointed out quickly before Magnus could mock the idea of their closeness being part of the entertaining as well. "And I didn't run away, Magnus. I went to the beach, for a jar of sand to send home." She bit her lip, holding her breath.

After a pause, Magnus seemed to accept their words. Not that he had been upset before, more just mildly amused and joking. "Vailean, let me have a word with Lady Elward." His tone was serious but not too grave.

When his son parted from the room, pausing to glance back at the woman in bed, Evey threw off the suddenly-suffocating quilts and threw her legs off to the side. By the time Magnus had closed the door and turned around, the girl had one hand on a bed pole and the other covering her right hip.

"Are ya tryin' to get yourself killed?" Macintosh hissed as he stepped forward, his arm around her as gentle as he could without harming her. She leaned against him before glancing up.

"Funny, you're the second Macintosh to say that today." Evey half joked as she pushed her messy hair behind her ear. Since when had she lacked the usual braids? "I wish to dress; I can't stand the idea of being cooped up in bed all day!" She nodded to the closet in hopes of getting another dress on when she realized…there was no dress on her. It was a white nightgown, one she used for sleep.

While she wasn't entirely naked, she certainly felt that way – especially since she was right against the man! "Ah! What are you doing in here?" She chided the older Macintosh. "Leave, bring my servants in here – my _female _servants!" Her arm wrapped around her body, covering herself despite the cloth hiding her. As a result, he had to pull her closer so she wouldn't fall and split the cuts open.

Trying his best not to laugh at the situation, he pointed out stubbornly, "If ya hadn't tried to run off, we wouldn't be in this mess, Lady!"

Her warm face turned hot when she realized she was leaning against the bedpost and Macintosh…rather…close. "M-M'lord, step away! You thought Vailean and I being alone was improper…!"

"Ah, calm down lass!" Magnus felt a slight hint of irritation come back from his visit to the other clan. His slightly yellowed teeth showed as he started to scowl. Inhaling deeply to retain his calm, however, only brought him the scent of sand and her scent. Oddly enough it still had the same effect. "If I let ya go, you'll fall or open up those nasty cuts I heard about. Though I will let you go if you sit back down."

"Be stuck here all night and day in bed? I don't think it'd be a wise idea to give me a needle and thread to sew in this mood, m'lord." She said with a hint of sarcasm.

Rolling his eyes, he looked down at her and conceded, "I'll tell you the tales of my travel if ya lay back down. Do we have a deal?"

Evey looked up at him to see how serious he was – wouldn't he rather slap his son's shoulder blades and tell his tales then? – when she noticed a few specs of darker blue in his eyes. Again, the fact that they were that close made her body hot and her heart race. "Yes, we have a deal." She whispered quietly, her hands on his arms in an attempt to keep standing.

Macintosh grunted as he shifted their position and let her back onto the bed. She grimaced but managed to pull herself against the propped up pillows, pulling a quilt up to her neck. "Now do ya mind tellin' me why ya ran off?"

"I told you, I wanted a jar of sand." Evey briefly explained the situation as best as she could without insulting Scotland or its weather. "Do you truly believe I would leave this castle, Vailean, and you, Magnus?" There was honest surprise and even a hint of hurt in her voice.

Magnus shook his head, his messy hair moving with him in the slightest. "No, I suppose ya wouldn't. Just seems a bit odd, goin' all that way for sand." Before she could protest, he grabbed the chair his son had occupied near the fire and pulled it close. Sitting back, he crossed his arms and started on about his journey to and fro the Dingwall territory.

Before he knew it, right in the middle of what he judged to be the exciting part…Evey fell asleep. Just like that she was against the pillows with her head to the side, half buried in. Her hair covered a bit of her cheek, one hand at her side and the other holding the quilt to her chest. Macintosh stood, feeling the night start to take over himself. He shook his head as he started to leave, wondering just why he had made such a deal with her when he could have just as easily called for her servant (Katherine was it? Jane?) to sate her.

The man went towards the door and paused, glancing back to make sure she was…what? Still there? Breathing? Unsure, he turned away and stepped out, calling for the stern servant of hers, Jane.

By the time Evey woke once more, the fire had died out and it was rather chilly, only Jane was sleeping hunched over the bed from the chair nearby. She made a move to stand once more when she caught notice of something on her nightstand.

It was a jar of damp sand with a piece of parchment to the side.

_Your Betroth,_

_Vailean_

* * *

_*Sumph_, which is of uncertain origin, can also act as a verb, although this use is not now nearly as common as the noun use. The verb means to act in a foolish, stupid way without thinking ahead. It can also mean to loaf or lie about doing nothing, or to be in a sullen sulk. Basically, the verb describes the way _sumphish_or _sumphy_ people are likely to act.

caledonianmercury 2011 / 03 / 14 / useful-scots-word-sumph/ 0015424

Preview: Evey's healing and for as much as Vailean seemed to WANT to get to know her…he sneaks out to the village with his friends and…what's this? A GIRL?

Also, a dinner to show the public the soon-to-be-Lady-Macintosh turns into frustration when Vailean opens his mouth – the question is, does Evey open hers to reveal the girl he spoke to?


	6. Chapter 6

Three things:

One. Thank you very much for the reviews and Follows! While I appreciate the reviews greatly, knowing people have this story as a Fav or Alert is equally as great!

Two. So for the longest time I saw Young Macintosh in the movies as a child. Gaston complex, slap-fighting, temper tantrum, etc. But there are two instances that I noticed (esp. by the 4th time I saw the movie recently lol) that counter that: A. He punches Dingwall after Wee Dingwall attacks his father and B. at the end during the fight of Mor'Du, he helps his father up.

Three. Lyrics can mean many things, so as cheesy as it is, I decided to borrow "Into The Sky" for this chapter. I do not own it. Also, although I am not too sure on the historical content of a guitar being in Scotland that early on, we'll just say it was for the sake of the chapter lol.

* * *

The only thing worse than being cooped up in the castle for about a week was being on lockdown in her bed for three straight days. At least before she could have explored different rooms, different windows and sceneries; however, being stuck in bed offered only the four plain walls and a window that was often covered because of the chilling air. There was only so much sewing the girl could do, her fingers itching for the handle of something far larger than a needle.

It was that night that Evey made a decision, hoping only that it wouldn't prove to be a foolish one again. While Marian slept soundly at the corner of the bed, she slowly slid out of bed and looked around. The floor was chilled but it wasn't enough to make her shiver. The girl slid out of the room, pausing to grab a guitar in a room she knew they kept instruments in. Where to go for privacy though? Not everyone was asleep, she knew; worries and doubts could easily plague the mind into insomnia.

It suddenly occurred to her how stuffy it was in the hallway she stood in. There was one place she could think of, a door she passed by while being rushed out to the tournament those days ago. A tower, one of many she noticed, at the north side of the castle.

Though it was a bit of a walk, Evey started her way and hoped it would be worth it. Her side ached a bit but it had healed enough to start scabbing over in the past couple of days. And while that was nice, her mind, however, was more active than usual whilst being stuck with nothing to do. She kept replaying Vailean over in her mind, his musical talent that he hid.

It triggered memories of an old friend, her first crush really, back in England. *George Smeaton was the name of a rather talented man, one who wrote music and poems and through the great abilities of his hands on instruments; he had worked his way up to becoming the Elward's musician. He was a man just a year older than Evey and had for reasons known later played the most for her.

It was about a year after he was first hired that Evey started to feel her heart race around him and certain butterflies in her stomach. George Smeaton was her first crush. And best yet, he had returned her quiet affections by means of poems and songs, as well as longing gazes swapped frequently. They spoke through letters and whispers, always careful not to let it come to surface.

When she had been told of who and when she was to marry, she met with George one final time. Though Evey understood her duty and the deal she had made with her parents, she was still choked up when she spoke to him. A final farewell, a thank you, and a hope that he would excel in life; anything else, like the wish of the two of them having lived in another life as a couple, would have been inappropriate to say. Not only that, but it would have been torture to the both of them to confess such wild dreams and desperate wishes.

The day before she boarded the ship to Scotland, he stopped her by chance and slid a roll of parchment into her hand, silent with just a small smile. And then he departed, not to be seen the next day at her leave. When Evey opened it, she found it was a sheet of music, a song that was quite famous for lovers held apart.

And Vailean's play of the lyre reminded her of him for the first time in…well, weeks, ages. It seemed like she was destined to be with a man of musical talents one way or another. So when she reached the tower she was looking for, Evey looked around once before walking up the long, twisting staircase. It grew colder every step she took, enough to make her wish she had brought a cloak.

Yet as soon as she got to the top, all thoughts of the weather were replaced with the scenery. The room was bare but there was one large window from the floor to the ceiling that was open. No wonder it was so cold! Yet there before her stood several hills, all covered in frost, and the homes of those nearby. Trees, as bare and naked as they were, still looked hauntingly appealing on the edge of the castle walls. And the best part of all was the moon far above, full and shining brightly. It looked magical, all of it.

Slow step by slow step, she placed the guitar down and used the edge of the wall to lower herself down, grimacing when she felt the abnormal angle crush her healing cuts. A sharp exhale left her when her butt finally hit the cold floor. Carefully, she slid to where one leg dangled off the ledge and the other curled to her other leg, her foot on her thigh.

Evey pulled the rolled up parchment from her sleeve before taking the guitar comfortably on her lap. Placing it on the bottom of the guitar between it and her knee, she strummed a few times. Within minutes, she found the notes and started to play, rusty as she was.

"This love, it is a distant star guiding us home wherever we are. This love, it is a burning song, shining light on the things that we've done. I try to speak to you every day but each word we spoke, the wind blew away." Her green gaze remained locked on the moon, her attention so deep in the song that she failed to hear the door open.

"Could these walls come crumbling down? I want to feel my feet on the ground," her one dangling foot twisted in a circle, "and leave behind this prison we share. Step into the open air." Her head turned just enough to glance at the sheet once more, making sure she hit the right notes. On the travel to Scotland, she had imagined it in her head, played it silently since it would have raised suspicion if she played it loud like this. Even now, it was actually quite dangerous for what if someone heard her? They would assume she had a lover, someone other than Vailean.

"How did we let it come to this? What we just tasted we somehow still miss. How will it feel when this day is done and can we keep what we've only begun?" The person who had stepped in paused in their steps and crossed their arms. "And now these walls come crumbling down and I can feel my feet on the ground. Can we carry this love that we share into the open air?" Evey's strumming slowed down, her singing quieting as well. "Into the open air…into the open air. This love, it is a burning song…"

The woman's hands fell rather limp as she leaned against the edge of the window, staring up at the moon. Before she could sigh, however, a voice spoke behind her. "Since when could ya play more than swords?" Amusement, teasing.

Evey turned sharply and gasped, quickly pulling herself off the ground. She regretted it instantly though, her hip screaming with protest. "M-My lord." The guitar was set aside on the wall as she gave a curtsey, this time seeing a bit of white in her vision from the pain at her side. "I-I was just, I don't usually play, that is to say that I barely know how to…to…good evening, Magnus." She finished her horrible stutter with a meek greeting.

The moon outside didn't really leave any room for shadows to lurk. Still, there was just a hint of them lying over Macintosh's face. He didn't have the blue woad on, his eyes tired and his skin worn out. If anything, he looked haggard. His arms crossed over his chest –when did he ever take off that odd kilt and toga? – and he spoke with a humoring smile, his voice matching the exhaustion that he wore. "What are ya doin' out of bed, lass?" His gaze drooped to her side where her hand had acted without her accord and latched over the cuts. It almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. It was clear what he was thinking.

"I couldn't sleep." She admitted, busying her hands with folding up the parchment. "What are you doing out of bed, Magnus?"

"I'd be lyin' if I said it wasn't for the same reason you're out of bed. I see you found my favorite hiding spot. The view is wonderful, isn't it?" He walked over suddenly and reached out to take the half-rolled paper. "Did ya write this?" When she handed it over, he scanned it quickly.

Evey felt what little blood was left in her face from his introduction drain away. She could lie to him, but it still did not change the contents of the song. And what if it were to be brought up later before her servants? They would know…and they would write back to England. "No, m'lord, a…" she shifted on her feet, "an old friend did. As a parting gift."

For some reason or another, Macintosh's gaze seemed a bit less cloudy and his body a bit sharper. "Hm…it looks to be a wee bit more intimate than a friend." When he glanced up at her, seeing how pale she was, he added to ensure that he wouldn't sound accusing, "Did ya leave your heart back in England, Evey?"

The girl swallowed and looked away. Though his tone was sympathetic if anything, the words he spoke were perhaps more powerful than a swift punch to the gut. Her hands clasped together, as they often did when she grew nervous, but there was no jewelry to toy with, only her fingers to twist around. "And I would be lying to you if I said no. The truth is, Lord Macintosh, I left…part of my heart there. My first…crush was a musician of sorts. B-but nothing happened than the most innocent of gestures!" It was either come clean now or have rumors swirl later. "And I intend to love your son, you, this clan with or without all of my heart returned to me." Evey held her breath for a moment before the need of sleep hit her hard, leaving her only the bluntest of words and pleas. "Magnus, please do not think ill of me or that I am an adulterer. I have not talked to George since I left; we both understood our places. I hope you are not upset…please say something."

Magnus stared for a moment before he ran his hand through his hair – well, as much as his tangles would let him. He suddenly felt more awake than before. "Lass, there be no reason to fret. If you say this…George was a passin' fancy, then I trust you. It will remain between us." Finishing rolling up the sheet, he placed it back in her hand and stepped towards the ledge to look at the moon. Evey had the look of an honest person and though he might not tell her (for it was his own sort of ace in the hole, so to speak) her eyes gave away her emotions most of the time.

"Thank you."She spoke with relief while sliding the parchment into her sleeve. There was silence between them but a comfortable kind. She crossed her arms as she stepped forward as well, thinking over what just happened. There was certainly a bit of weight off her shoulders to know he wouldn't see her as some…loose woman. A virtuous one instead for his son. After all, she was certain he had his fair share of crushes when he was young.

The thought struck her odd suddenly. For this man who remained a widow for a decade, who had courted and cherished his wife, to have a crush even while younger…it seemed almost impossible. "Magnus? May I…ask something personal?"

"Hm?" He was still searching the sky and the horizon of the land as he nodded. "Go ahead, lassy."

The fact that there was silence between his permission and her words warned him it was something important. Evey placed her hand on the other frame that shaped the open ledge. "What…happened to…to the late Lady Macintosh?"

From the side angle she was at, Evey could see how Lord Macintosh's head shifted down, his eyes suddenly caught in the nothingness of the ground below him. She held her breath for a moment, waiting his reaction. At last his shoulders fell forward, a sign that he couldn't or wouldn't hold himself up further any longer. Almost a sign of defeat, she thought. "Women are stronger than most men, not in a way of fightin' on a battle field but in a way of giving birth. Hours, even days of bein' in labor…and they live from all that pain and blood. Most do. My Peigi, my pearl…she was strong. But she had…difficulties durin' Vailean's birth. The second time, she was not so lucky."

The English woman had a hand to her mouth, horror struck for many reasons. So the late Lady Macintosh had died from childbirth. That alarmed Evey for while such childbed fevers were common in the commoners, to hear that a high status woman, one with good help, had passed…she swallowed. Suddenly her own mortality came to mind. "And…of the child, m'lord?"

"Stillborn. A daughter." He seemed even more tight lipped about her than his wife. Suddenly she saw the Lord and late Lady sitting in bed together or near a fire, his hand on her belly, whispering names for the next child. Excitement and hope…only to be crushed. For Macintosh, the man with such a large ego to fill two rooms and a hallway, to be struck to the core with two deaths of his wife and daughter, it was a harsh picture. How in the world did he ever pull himself together? How did he pick himself back up for his son, his clan?

The questions and the images were far too much for Evey. A lump in her throat and her vision blurred with tears, she did something that quite possibly would cross a line had they been in public. She overstepped that line to create a new level, a new boundary for the two.

She stepped forward and hugged him.

There was no word or phrase she could utter to match his pain. Only touch could do so and even then just barely. But still, her arms were wrapped around his waist and her head on his bare chest, inhaling slowly as to not let the tears multiply.

Macintosh jumped a bit from the unexpected display of affection. He looked down with uncertainty at first – how long had it been since he had received a hug from a female? Yes there was the occasional slap between the shoulder blades, a man's way of greeting old friends, but of a woman's touch? Slowly he wrapped his arms around her as well; her body heat a startling contrast to the cold wind.

She tilted her head back and met his gaze, almost smiling at how his beard brushed against her head. Another moment passed, one that felt longer than before with their gazes locked, until Evey's shiver broke the moment. Just like that, they were back to their former selves.

"If you get a cold, you'll have to stay in bed for the duration of that as well." Macintosh gave a slight warning, stepping back and pulling her gently from the window ledge.

"I'd only end up getting up at some ungodly hour to walk around like now." Evey brushed her hair back with a small grin, hugging herself. "Will you escort me back to my room, my lord?"

Magnus gave a smirk as he offered his arm, bending his knees to grab the guitar against the wall. "If I didn't, I don't think you'd go back to your room, lass."

* * *

It was another couple days before Evey could walk at a rate faster than a snail without pain. When she was able to dress in a deep blue gown with silver edging, she went through the castle looking for Vailean with the hope that they could practice archery together. Or at least have her be his one and only audience as he shot the arrows; any sports were a risk, but to have the man to herself for once instead of with a gaggle of girls spying it was worth the risk.

Alas, when she asked a personally-assigned servant to Vailean where his master was, the man muttered something about the young lord being down at the village. The village wasn't too far off, walking distance really. She informed her servant Jane who instantly insisted on joining and adding a guard – just in case. "These people don't know you, m'lady. Best to be too safe than not at all."

"And arriving with a guard shows I lack trust in them. For them to learn to love and trust me, Jane, I must do the same to them first. It will be you and I traveling, that is all. Don't fight me Jane I'm putting my foot down. I'll carry a small dagger under my cloak if that makes you feel better." To dare say anything against that was to speak badly of her ever-refining skills with a weapon, so Jane nodded demurely.

By the hour the two ladies had entered the busy streets, all the body heat making the chilly air bearable. She kept a sharp eye out for Vailean, keeping a smile on her face as much as she could. Surely she stuck out as the daughter of an English Duchess? For the most part, most of the people gave a small grin or a nod to her. A few just stared, studied her. And one or two quickly looked away though she wasn't sure why.

She turned a corner of a building and spotted Vailean – how could she miss him with a crowd surrounding him? Evey smiled a bit, her heart fluttering to see his grin, his over-confident pose. There were a few young men around him, probably his friends since they were relatively secluded, and…one lone female at his side. How odd. Evey paused in her steps to watch the scene, holding a hand up to keep Jane from speaking.

"Annis, don't be shy! I've had plenty of lasses admire them…go on, touch!" Vailean encouraged the brown haired, mousy nosed girl as he flexed his arm. The three males around them mimicked his words, chanting her name until she gave his arm a squeeze. Her face was a bright pink and she quickly let go, looking as though she were to faint from a tight corset.

Evey stepped back and rested her side against the wall, her legs starting to go weak. Vailean, oblivious to his extra two audience members, gave a chuckle and tossed his hair back before offering his arm again, flexing and all. "Grab hold and don't let go." He used his other hand to place under her chin and nudged her blue gaze back up at him. If one wasn't looking carefully, they would have missed how a spark flickered between the two. How both looked almost stunned before they looked…content with their lids lowered with a sort of want. But Evey was watching and she did not miss this.

Annis gathered her courage and stepped closer, her head just below Vailean's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his rather muscular arm and gave a muffled yelp with a grin when he lifted her above the ground. The nervousness went away though and once she started to giggle, the boys around her cheered and laughed.

Evey saw no more for she had pushed herself to the other side of the building, away from the scene. Her legs were barely keeping her up, her smile twisted into a horrified frown, her brows knitted together. It was only when Jane touched her shoulder did her green gaze shift up though in her mind she kept replaying what she had witnessed. "I think a letter to your mother the Duchess is overdue, Lady Elward." Jane spoke so quietly that it was difficult to tell if it was of pity or sympathy.

* * *

Okay, so I know I said I'd have the dinner in here as well…but I figured the unexpected event in the tower took enough pages already lol. Good news is, the next chapter is already half typed up!

Preview: A dinner to show the public the soon-to-be-Lady-Macintosh turns into frustration when Vailean opens his mouth – the question is, does Evey open hers to reveal the girl he spoke to? Then a bit of swordplay and who knows what else…

*Soooo if y'all caught the cookie: George Smeaton. I combined George Boleyn and Mark Smeaton, the brother and the musician of whom were charged (falsely) with having incest/affair with Queen Boleyn, resulting in her being the first one of King Henry VIII's to losing her head – literally. A foreshadow for the story!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay, so this SHOULD NOT have taken over a week to finish writing. Alas, both Macintosh lads and my creativity just…wouldn't talk to me. So I watched Brave again and forced them lol. Not too happy with this chapter, honestly, just because /I/ feel like it's rushed…but I think it's good overall.

* * *

To repeat everything she had seen in a letter to her mother was draining enough; to add her thoughts, concerns, and fears made her feel as though she had been up for several straight days. Evey wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep everything away. Alas, she couldn't for there was to be a dinner with the family's close friends – gods, she prayed that Annis wouldn't be there – and she couldn't miss that, sick or not. That would be something to the similarity of first impressions to her soon-to-be-people. To be ill would to suggest she wouldn't last in this life in Scotland.

And maybe that was what they, Vailean and the others, hoped for.

It made it easier to have a mistress when the wife was dead…what was wrong with her? What did Annis have to allure Vailean that Evey lacked? What did that mean when they married? Would Vailean leave Annis alone and be miserable with his English bride, or try to make it work? Or, worse, would he keep Annis close to him, humiliating her in public by making Annis practically his wife while he kept her, Evey Elward, in the shadows? It had happened in many courts before, French or English, after all.

Oh no…what if he rarely went to the same bed as Evey? The chances of creating an heir, the key part of the marriage, would be slim to none and then she'd be scorned and blamed. It would be her fault, all her fault for not being able to conceive even if it is Vailean who spends his time with the other woman. Women were always the scapegoat.

Would Lord Macintosh demand her sent back to English in disgrace if she couldn't product a grandson, even if he had to return the dowry? The very idea of Magnus glaring down at her in disapproval made her tremble and feel sick to her stomach. Did he know of his son's…friend? It struck her then. He couldn't possibly know about Annis for he was the sort of man who believed in one love, one woman. For his son to flaunt that…impossible.

Good…good, Evey had something on her betroth them. She didn't add it to the letter to her mother though since she suspected the Duchess would figure it out as well. For now, she dressed in her best gown and put on a modest silver necklace, pearls braided into her hair.

When she arrived at dinner, entering between the other men, she kept a smile on her face plastered there. Luckily with one quick glance Annis proved to be absent which allowed her smile to be more honest. Near Vailean stood his three friends while on the other side of Macintosh – for Evey was between the Macintosh males – stood a few other key people.

She gave small curtseys while they bowed in return, the five or six people that looked to be key in any decision making. Evey already knew she'd have to get them to like her or at least tolerate her just in case she ever needed to plan something with or without her husband's help. "Good evening, kind sirs. It is a pleasure to meet you all." While most of their names slipped in one ear and out the other, she figured she would just address them all with titles instead of names – for tonight.

The girl kept her back straight in the chair and ate only a few bites of each course, not speaking a word to her betroth who seemed more than content to take the same approach. There was no way he or his friends had noticed her spying earlier so this silence hurt a bit more than it should have. When the girl held her cup out for a second cup a wine in the middle of dinner – a first – Magnus paused in his roar of laughter to glance over.

"What's he to do but try and throw a fist – and right into a wall!" Another round of laughter erupted from the men around but this time Magnus didn't join.

Instead he leaned to his right and muttered softly from the corner of his lips while twirling his cup around, "The wine's a bit stronger here than in England, Lady."

"I know quite well it is." She hissed softly before taking a sip. Then the girl picked at her food, glancing at Vailean to see him enwrapped in the story being told. Ah, Magnus thought as he watched her eyes, so _that_ was where the problem was. His son…and his lack of attention to the girl, apparently.

He knew Evey to be sensible so surely this…issue had been going on long enough. She wouldn't start drinking so much on such an empty stomach at just a night's avoidance. Macintosh tore his eyes away before trying to get back into the festive spirit of the meal.

A few men tore into legs of meat, talking during the bites more so than in between them. Try as he might though, no matter the words he heard or the claims of bravery that were shared, he simply couldn't get back into his earlier mood. It was only when he noticed a couple of his old and best fighters start to fight with makeshift swords of the bones did he feel that spark again. Ah, the excitement! The challenge! The stories and friends, the company!

"Ah, you can't even hold a 'sword'!" Macintosh called out.

The man he spoke to nearly lost his grip on the boat, laughing harshly. Humoring him, he shouted back, "Come, show us how to use a weapon then! Come, my Lord, come!" Magnus put his glass down and went to the center of the room, waving his hand so that his sword, not a bone, would fly into his grasp. Just like that, the clanking noise of swords clashing and Magnus' voice, shouting the instructions that Evey had heard ages ago, filled the air.

Despite the noise, however, one of Vailean's friends spoke up to the lad. Evey leaned to the side a bit to get a better earful. "Better work hard to make sure your son comes out handsome, Vailean!" Evey's back straightened, her grip on the cup tightening.

"Aye, I've heard the English put out a sour lookin' bunch!" A round of laughter followed. Her jaw locked as she gritted her teeth, staring straight ahead. Her head as swimming already from the wine, her thoughts a bit more harsh and less controlled. She longed to turn around and slap the two 'friends' who spoke, clearly thinking of that other girl for young Macintosh. Not only that, but she wanted to curl up with her sudden insecurity. Was she…unappealing?

As soon as she stood, almost slamming the drink down, the sword lesson stopped and all laughter paused. "Pardon me, m'lord, but I don't feel well. I think I'll retire early." She gave a small nod to men, ignoring her betroth, and stepped out without Macintosh excusing her.

Vailean flipped his hair and turned back to his friends, the noise starting back up again. "If you'll…excuse me." Magnus muttered something as he slipped his sword in its holder on his waist. He made way out of the dining hall and started to walk towards Evey's room; he knew her Ladies would help, but somehow…he just had to make sure she was alright.

Just as he was about to take a left, he paused and took the other path. Not long afterwards was the sound of a sword cutting through the air followed by a grunt. A female grunt. Now what would she be doing?

When he walked up a familiar tower, the one he had heard Evey singing in that one night, he heard the noise quite sharper. The man stepped into the room to see the girl twirl around, almost falling because of her dress – and the alcohol. In her hands was a sword and though he wasn't sure where she took it from, she was doing it all wrong. She did it out of anger though, the swiping of the sword, so of course she did it wrong.

Macintosh crossed his arms at first, leaning against the doorframe. He watched as the Duchess' daughter nearly slammed the sword into the wall – a nasty aftermath that would have been. Shaking his head, he decided to put a stop to this before she hurt herself badly. Yet as soon as she stepped forward, she swung wildly while twirling around.

Magnus barely had enough time to grab his own sword and bring it up to his face on instinct. The two weapons met loudly and both owner simply stared at each other. Slowly Evey's eyes widened until she dropped the sword, standing up straight once more. "M-my lord…I…it was an accident. I didn't…mean…"

Her eyes were bleary, her words a bit slurred. Even when she stood straight, she was off balance. He held up his hand to silence her, his face stern and his eyes almost cold. Evey started to shiver, not from the wind from the open window but from his almost harsh gaze. His scary stare. Macintosh leaned down and grabbed the sword she had dropped, placing it firmly in her hands.

At her confused stare, he ordered, "Again. Try to strike me again." When she didn't move, perhaps because she wasn't sure if she heard him right, he clanked his sword to hers and lowered his brows. "Try to hit me!"

With the near-shout, she jumped and moved into action. Finally she met resistance instead of swinging wildly around her, risking injury. Though Magnus wasn't trying to hit her, it didn't take much to deflect her attempted hits.

It was hard to judge the time and certainly impossible to keep score. Things were a harsh blur from then on, Evey moving and hitting his sword in a way to get rid of her frustration and anger. The young lady gave a loud cry, almost a battle cry, before she swiped at his feet. When she turned around, she stepped on her pretty dress and flew to one knee.

It was then that her sword crossed his but instead of moving to strike again, Macintosh knelt down with her. Her stomach churned and her head was pounding already. Her rage had been drained from her, leaving only…only sorrow. Her gaze had been locked on his chest, not truly looking but just staring as she was caught in her emotions. Evey leaned forward, her head almost against the crossed swords. Her hair had long since fallen from the normal braids, which had been done loosely that night to give her a gentle appearance, and curtained around her face.

Just like that her shoulders started to shake. Macintosh sat up straighter, uncomfortable at first. It was only when her first cry was heard, a strangled noise as she tried to inhale, did he react like he would have a decade ago when he was accustomed to female company.

He grabbed her sword and gently pried it from her fingers, tossing it aside before doing the same with his. The resounding thud and clank from the weapons hitting the stone floor almost hurt to hear, but somehow Evey's sobs, which came a bit freer, hurt worse to Macintosh. Not by his ears, but they pulled at his heart. All he had to do was wrap his arms around her shoulders before she fell against him. Like a brick wall he was, but she was grateful for it.

Evey couldn't scoot closer without her dress ripping so she merely curled into a ball, burying her face into his chest. She was hardly conscious of the fact that she was sobbing, that her eyes were burning, that she was gasping for air in between. All she knew was that she missed her mother. She missed her father. Her home. Her room. Her bed. Her friends. Her sense of security and safety.

And most of all…she missed the rain.

"Shh, lass, there…" he whispered gently, one hand rubbing circles on her back while the other had a mind of its own by means of running through her wind-blown hair. Evey didn't realize she had spoken those thoughts, voiced what she longed for. His chin was against her ear, his lips closer still. "It's natural to miss 'em, lass. It's alright…everyone gets homesick."

Why? Why wasn't she beautiful like that girl? Why did Vailean want her, a commoner, than herself, the daughter of a Duchess? A shy little thing…did Vailean not like bold women? Was that what was wrong with her? Perhaps her parents shouldn't have given her a Prince's education.

"What?!" Magnus snapped and suddenly pushed her to sit up and meet his gaze. "What did you say?" His eyes were wide as they were stunned, his lips parted.

The sudden movement and shift of her vision made her dizzy enough to fall backwards; she would have hit the ground had he not kept his arm around her. "Lass, what is this about Vailean wanting a…commoner?" Oh gods, had she spoken her thoughts without realizing it once more?

She shook her head, a fresh wave of tears escaping; a much needed release of tension. Her head fell forward to hide the tears, her cheeks red partly from the alcohol and exercise, but mostly from the shame of being seen this way. Macintosh grabbed her chin and nudged her up, using the pad of his thumb to rid them from her face as much as he could. "Let it out lass…come here." He would ask her about it later, another time when she wasn't such a wreck.

Evey scooted closer despite her dress threatening to rip, her arms around his waist as she made a pillow of him. She wasn't sure how much time had passed but slowly she stopped crying. Little hiccups escaped her here or there until sleep started to wrap around her. Her hair was matted against her cheek from the crying, perhaps even ruining his own beard from it since he was bent over her.

It was impossible to keep her eyes open by that time. She muttered something, some nonsense, her fingers curling into a fist as she curled against him. Just a moment of sleep…just…a…moment…

Magnus felt exhausted just from watching her. His hands had never stopped moving whether they were making a circle on her back or combing through her locks. The girl's sobs made him hold her tighter and the desire to make it stop, rid her of her pain, grow stronger.

She was out cold now. What was she talking about, a commoner? Beautiful? What had happened and why was he so out of the loop about it? As gentle as he could, he maneuvered her into his arms. Leaving the swords there, he made his way down the stairs and towards her bed.

Evey would be in hell with a hangover in the morning.

* * *

Preview: Will Macintosh learn of his son's crush? Then we have a time skip where we see something is terribly off with a servant and another noteworthy "gentleman" who is anything but gentle.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I apologize for the long wait. I've been through recent intense training (gods, 48 hours of sitting in the same room…ugh) and college has started, so I'm just exhausted and spread all over the place.

BUT! My college showed Brave a few weekends ago YAY FOR PRE-RELEASE lol.

* * *

A couple weeks passed in a breeze, though during that time Evey stayed far from wine; the aftermath was rather gruesome. And in that time period Evey had also stayed far from something else: Magnus.

She made sure not to be near him for any longer than she needed to be for politics, lessons, or introductions to others. Even her sword fighting lessons she had put on pause, claiming aches all over her body ranging from the woman's curse to a simple headache. It wasn't that she was embarrassed – though she was – of how she had acted the night she had gotten drunk, she was just…she didn't want to tell him about Annis. To destroy Vailean's crush…she closed her eyes.

Greater women than herself had survived a marriage but looking the other way, after all. She had received a letter from her mother and it essentially expressed sympathies, though it lacked the true experience since, to Evey's knowledge, her mother and her father never went through something like this. Still, she took her mother's advice to look the other way and, most importantly, keep faithful when Vailean may or may not be to her heart. How many times had an ignored queen taken on a lover and had it blown up in her face?

So when a few weeks had passed and Evey felt restless a little past midnight, she decided to wrap herself up in a robe and walk around the chilled room. The craving for a sweet pastry took over and before she knew it, she arrived in the kitchen nudging the door with her hips. Yet instead of arriving in a lonely room, she heard a shift behind the door, making her pause.

There was a grunt and a muffled cry, one she found herself questioning if it was willing or not. Perhaps some of the servants were doing what she had only read about doing on her wedding night. The very idea made her face flush a deep red. Her mind drifted briefly, daring to imagine her and Vailean caught in the kitchen.

Her body laid out on the table where they chopped up fruit, feeding slices of apple to her husband-to-be. And said husband would be hovering over her, leaning forward to kiss her in between bites. His rough hands would roam her body, down to her thighs while he brushed off his clothes, his excitement showing in more ways than just through his eyes. And her hand would drift up, going through his…wild…hair…

Evey's imagination quickly snapped off: wild hair?!

Before she could contemplate such a shock, she heard a soft cry and words spoken, though not in English, with fear. Evey pushed the door open a little with her fingertips and peaked in, her blue eyes widening at the sight.

There stood a woman perhaps her age, maybe a little younger, with her back to the wall. Before her stood a man of great dress – in her time here, Evey had been schooled in the Nobles and their clothing, this man being rather high in the ranks. He had one hand to the side of the woman's head and was whispering something, trying to kiss her.

The girl noticed a sharp yank from the servant, as if she were trying to leave, and felt highly uncomfortable. The Duchess stepped in and watched as the Noble looked over casually, almost annoyed. When he saw who it was, her chin high and all, he stepped back and bowed at the waist.

"…I need a hot bath and tea." Evey only acknowledged the man by a nod before looking pointedly at the girl. If she had just seen what she had seen…well, she had to get the servant away to ask.

Almost flying from the wall, the servant went to grab the kettle of water from the fireplace and walked away to her room. Evey studied the Noble once more, whose eyes did not leave the girl, before departing.

When she had turned and went to her room, noticing the noise in the room of her tub, Evey swallowed. How was she supposed to handle that? She had never come across such an abuse of power before. Or was it? Perhaps it had all been…censual?

"May I ask you something?" She asked suddenly, making the servant jump, drops of hot water falling from the tub.

When the girl turned and spoke, she spoke in a language Evey did not know.

Just like that, her plan was shot.

* * *

"M'lord?" Evey called out, hoping that the man wasn't asleep. True that it was late at night, late enough to be considered morning, but she had seen bags under Magnus' eyes before. So why not now?

"Lord Macintosh, are you awake?" She saw the flickering light of the candles from the door being cracked open. Surely security wasn't that lax? Wrapping her fur robe around her tighter, her wet hair put in a bun and wrapped with a warm cloth, Evey shuffled closer. Her fingertips reached out and she pushed the door open.

Before her stood his room.

His bed, a bed so large that it took up almost half the wall, had piles of fur on it. On the desk nearby was nothing but sheets and maps, most open and marked on. And the fire burned bright, warm. Still, the window was open ever so slightly just to allow the darkness in.

When she stepped in, she suddenly noticed the wall, the one that wasn't half covered with the bed, covered with weapons of all sorts. Her lips parted and when she stepped forward to touch one, her robe opening ever so slightly, she heard a throat clearing.

Jumping, she spun around and pulled her robe tight around her. There was Lord Macintosh in a plush chair near the fireplace, his eyes droopy but awake. "Good morning Evey…what are ya doing here?" There was a tired curiosity in his tone, so much that she almost wished she didn't have to bother him.

Evey almost did a curtsey to him before realizing just how informal their situation was. "Magnus, good morning to you…I apologize for being so sudden and intruding."

"Not at all, not at all…why aren't ya asleep, lass?" He stood from the chair with a grunt, his body protesting.

Evey looked down but as she did, her eyes ran over his body. He was in fur, the most she had ever seen him in, but the flesh she did see…

Flushed red, she looked down and spoke gently, "I went to the kitchen earlier for a snack and upon my entrance, I noticed…what appeared to be a resistant servant pinned to the wall. She was…she was, from my observation, being molested by one of your Nobles, the one with a damaged eye who sits close to you at dinner, m'lord." Evey suddenly realized she was…scared, hesitant to mention this to him. Why? Because she knew she might be wrong; she knew the act might have been willing one, although a kink as it were. And she felt…she would feel embarrassed if Macintosh found out she walked in on an act so intimate. It wasn't ladylike.

Magnus, though tired as he was and looked, had his eyes widen ever so slightly. It was almost comical had the situation not been so serious. "Blair?" He almost squeaked out. "Impossible!" His voice lost the exhaustion that dragged it down, now strong as steady. "He's the most respected noble here! Mind yer eyes, lassy, or they'll get you in trouble."

Evey's jaw dropped from the sheer shock of it all making her forget her manners. "W-…I…Pardon?! Magnus, the girl doesn't speak English! I'm not sure what she speaks but even after she escaped him to my bathing room, she looked horrified!" Evey stepped into the room further, the shadows playing on both of their faces exaggerating their facial emotions.

Shaking his head, his wild hair doing the same, Macintosh kept his standing – literally and metaphorically. "No M'lady, what you saw, if it happened at all, was probably the girl bein' embarrassed for bein' caught. Blair's a ladies man, after all."

"How…dare you!" She hissed, her hands clenched into fists. The Duchess barely managed to restrain herself though, trying not to spit at him. She swallowed and stepped back, away even. "And if it were a Spanish Princess, would you care then?!" Of course he would. A Princess would mean lands and money. Just like she did.

Did he put up with her just because of the treasures she bought?

The idea hurt her in a way she couldn't quite describe. Though the sun was starting to peak up, she held herself high and stepped away once more. "Forget I asked, Lord Macintosh. I bid you good night."

She would find out what was really going on, even if Magnus wanted to hide his head in the sand. She would come up with a way to help the servant…

* * *

Preview: What is Evey's plan? And why will it end in blood with the two Macintosh men?


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Omg, SO! A few sweet artist, Boxjelly1 on Deviantart surprised me with some art from one of my chapters! I was SO stunned and touched that I felt the need to write again

lilyhellsing. deviantart favourites/#/d5k8ux1

I posted the link (just add the http and dot com), but I'm not sure if is going to let it show up...just go to Deviantart and search "Macintosh, Brave, Impressions" comic...hope it shows!

* * *

Her fingertips were numb. It was a natural thing to feel – or not feel – after having them on the stone wall next to the window for over an hour. For the past day, Evey and her ladies had been sewing different sorts of things: symbols to their dresses, patches on their handkerchiefs, and so on. There was a half-finished scarf on Evey's lap, but it hadn't been touched since she brought it out.

No, her attention was far from the room they were in. While at once it had been warm with the fire roaring and the exits covered, it was now chilly. Evey had pushed the window curtain aside, her hand on the side ledge and her eyes glued on the servants working outside. And despite the heavy fabrics on their laps, her three ladies – Jane, Marian, and Katherine – were shivering but silent about it.

They had been told about what happened three nights ago, from when Evey stepped to the kitchen herself to – much to Jane's horror – when she had stepped into Lord Macintosh's room, and knew that unless they were going to speak for helping the girl, they best stay quiet. Katherine, the ever nursing kind, finally broke the silence which was only punctured with the occasional crackle of wood. "Lady Elward, might it be a good idea to stand before the fire for a little while? You'll catch your death if you stand there any longer!"

Perhaps it was because it was Katherine who spoke, but Evey didn't lash out like she had before. Her pride was still injured from Lord Macintosh's laugh in his room. Instead Evey kept her gaze outside, watching as the servant started to retreat into the warm kitchen, and mused, "I believe if those who wash my clothes and serve my food can tough out the cold then so can I."

"Aye, but they be more…_properly_ dressed for the snow." A male voice boomed throughout the sewing chamber. The three ladies snapped their head to look at the intruder; Evey didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Lord Macintosh." Three choruses greeted the half naked man, their heads bowed. Their Duchess only gripped the ledge tighter in acknowledging which blue-covered man had entered.

The man nodded, his wild hair staying relatively in place for the most part. "Good afternoon ladies. Lady Elward." Ah, so they were back to bring as formal as formal could be. He stood with his hands behind his back, his chest sticking out, and his blue eyes stuck on the woman next to the window. She looked so…sullen, frustrated, he decided. "Is there a particular reason why you cancelled our sword lesson for the third day in a row, Duchess?"

Yes, it had been three days since the event occurred. And with the man having scoffed her away, Evey found it to be…unhealthy wielding a sword against him. She might chop off his arm after all. But now he was here and although it wasn't necessarily her bed chambers, the sewing chambers was almost as private, intimate. He had made the effort and that meant he wouldn't leave without an answer.

Stubborn old fart.

"Katherine, Marian, Jane: leave." Her order was obeyed instantly – even by Jane though it didn't stop her from glancing back with wariness. An older man, a future father-in-law, in the intimate chambers of a young Duchess? Tsk, tsk. When they had departed, Evey stated coolly, "I've not felt well enough to practice with swords." The servant was no longer in her sight, but still Evey didn't want to look at Macintosh.

She could hear him move closer, deeper into the room now that the door was shut. It made her tense for reasons she didn't quite understand – or was 'tense' the right word for the flutter in her chest and lower? "Is it the weather that doesn't agree with you? Or the food? Or the people? For you haven't felt well many times these past few months." Magnus paused. "Am I to expect my grandchildren bein' born sick?"

It worked. Evey snapped around to face him, her numb hand at her side and the heavy curtain fallen back into place. Her face was chilled and her cheeks a rosy hue from the cold wind though her green eyes possessed a fire in them. It was even more visible now that Magnus stood a mere two feet away from her.

Normally the lack of distance between them would have made Evey fluster and move away, shy and meek. Not this time. She spoke with a sharp, harsh tone, one that made her accent and pronunciation of her words even more distinguished than before. "I have felt sick to my stomach these past three days because I had witnessed a violation of that innocent woman's personal space – and perhaps even her personal _being _– by a Noble of your council…and you did _nothing_ to stop it! I have not felt well these past three days because of the _injustice_ you have served! Because of your _biases_ and your _favors_; because you have smeared my good credibility by claiming the position I witnessed in the kitchen was all because Blair is a 'ladies' man'! Pah!" Her temper which had been relatively dormant the entire span of the past while suddenly lashed out.

Magnus had to be careful with his response. He walked in here knowing there would be cold glares and heated words exchanged, but if he let his temper get the better of him…he was trying to save their damaged relationship, not forsake it further. So he inhaled deeply, pausing just for a second to realize he was inhaling a mixture of smoky wood and salty beach: her scent. He had no doubt that if he looked around that he'd spy the jar of sand from her homeland coast.

It worked enough to let him think with logic than emotion. "Lady Elward, you came to me in the dead of night to my personal bed chambers and explained what you saw. Believe it or not, I trust Blair with my life. Not only that, Lady Elward, but there _are _sorts of people who quite enjoy their lovemaking to have a bit of rough pulls in it."

Despite herself, and much to Macintosh's amusement, Evey's cheeks which had been wind-blown red turned a darker crimson shade at the mention of rough sex. She had to struggle to swallow, but not from the sheer mention of sex. No, much to her guilt and shame, her mind went to her and her betroth – who had wild hair yet again, a common annoying trait in her fantasies – in a similar situation that Magnus had described.

And now he was smirking!

Irritation flared up in her body and blood. "What I saw lacked any 'love' in its making!"

"How do you know, Lady Elward? How do you know that their rough play didn't have hints of love in it?" Magnus then spoke though he knew he would regret it, "Are you skilled enough in the arts of the bedroom pleasures to tell the differences?"

Evey's spine snapped up straight and her green eyes had widened. "I am no whore!" She hissed on impulse, ever so slightly thinking back to her musician crush in England. But that had been explained away to the man before her so there shouldn't have been any guilt or worry.

"Then you know nothing! You do not know what you stumbled upon, m'lady!" Even though he had come in with the intent not to scoff or scowl, his words had taken a coarse tone, enough to emphasize his accent and damn near make his words nearly hard to understand.

Outrage kept through her veins and his smirk did nothing to stop from provoking her further. Soon she moved without thinking, she moved with only feeling of the situation. He didn't believe her? He called her ignorant to what she saw with her own eyes? How could he dare say that the position she walked in on that the two were in was pleasant, was wanted?!

Evey's legs moved first and her eyes darkened as she did. Suddenly with a throw of her weight, she shoved Magnus into the wall behind him with her free hand grabbing his wrists; it was quite easy to pin them above his head, so shocked that he was he was limp. They stumbled back a good two steps before they hit the wall next to the fireplace.

Her leg, which was covered by the plush fabric of her deep maroon dress for Yuletide, was pressed between his legs with her upper thigh, lower hip area, against a certain part of his body. Her chest almost was against his, almost flush against his.

And their faces…merely inches away. Lips parted. Eyes widened. Hearts beating as one…

That was how the servant was pinned. Evey made that much clear. She swallowed and slowly pulled away, each movement back making her face redder. "I…that…was…that was how I…walked in on them. Can you really," she cleared her throat, trying desperately to gain some ground back after that, "claim that was…consensual? Can you…can you truly say that what I witnessed is faulted strictly on the basis that I am a virgin?"

Magnus stood up on his own away from the wall, his wrists tingling pleasantly from where Evey's fingers had wrapped around. The sensation stunned and confused him, for this was his son's to-be-wife…and he was her senior by many decades. Perhaps…perhaps he just enjoyed the touch no matter who it belonged to. After all, it had been many a year since he knew the pleasures…

Still, it was enough to cause a sort of unsettling feeling in him – a…a longing. For what?

His voice was sober now. "While I can understand how that may have looked – and felt for the servant – you simply have no evidence, Evey. And I can't be accusin' Blair of rape based on the word of a…"

That pause was all it took for the Duchess to feel hurt and betrayed on a new level, a deeper level. No more anger, no more hate, no more outrage…just sadness. "Word of a what, Magnus?" Their formal titles slipped just as her control did. "Word of a woman? Or of a foreigner?" Two traits stuck to her forever that could quite possibly put a dent in her ability to "rule" the clan with Vailean.

Evey Elward was just a simple trinket to look pretty next to their great warrior-leader.

Before Magnus could speak up again, to try and deny the truth and save face, she continued to talk. This time, however, the girl spoke brokenly with defeat. "Leave me be Magnus. I do not feel well again – but this time, it is not a physical sickness that ails me. It is my heart that is full of grief from being unwanted. Please, just leave me be."

And with a heart as heavy as the English Duchess, Magnus turned and walked away, leaving her in a half-crumpled state. Her green eyes did not witness this action for they were covered with her frozen hands.

Alone and unwanted.

* * *

There was that feeling again. The feeling Evey had gotten the first few weeks she arrived in the Macintosh clan land. It was not quite boredom but nor was it quite frustration. It was misery.

Misery that had started the moment before Magnus left and that had kept on, like a heavy cloak around her shoulders, for a week. Though she didn't sleep anymore than normal, Evey often retired to bed right after dinner and rose just before lunch the next day. When she was in public, she was meek and quiet; when she was out of bed but not in public, she remained in the sewing chambers either staring outside or trying pathetically to toy with needle and thread.

Her three ladies grew worried but tried to blame her sorrows on the long winter. Her betroth, even, visited a couple of times after realizing somehow that she barely spoke a word at their shared meals, barely ate. And though she tried to treat his visits as a special occasion, to bring herself out of her gloom, Evey remained rather lethargic in them. Magnus was the only one who truly knew what was wrong and felt powerless, conflicted even. He had contemplated going to visit her alongside with his son but suspected if he saw her loss of spirit that he'd…well, he himself would be crushed.

It wasn't until exactly seven days later that Evey woke up in the middle of the night parched. The girl slid out of bed and was about to go to the door when she paused. How familiar! She was about to go to the kitchen around the same time she had first visited the time of the indecent. What should she do? Ask her ladies to accompany her as witnesses? How useless! What good would two foreigners do if one did nothing! Wake Vailean or Magnus to go with her? How foolish! Take a weapon? That would start a war, the very thought!

And god help her if she struck Blair with it…or worse, killed him.

The thought turned her blood to ice. She shuddered and pulled her robe around her tighter. But her throat demanded something and her curiosity got the best of her. So Evey switched into a dress that Marian had left, having been in the middle of sewing earlier that afternoon, and started her way down. It was only when she passed any huge source of light did she notice her dress, the one that Marian had been in the middle of patching up, was worthy of a servant. Not a servant, per say, but plain enough to be something that Katherine would wear.

The thought passed without much other consideration. By the time she reached the winding staircase that would lead into the kitchen, her mind was more focused on any and all noises around her. She pushed the door open and held her breath, her muscles taunt and her body tense and saw…nothing. No one.

Her lips parted and her brows furrowed. Well, good. It was good to see the servant hadn't been in the same position as before. Perhaps it had been a one-time mistaken.

Yet as soon as she thought that while pouring herself a glass of water, she knew it wasn't true. The Duchess finished off the water and went out the other way, the way that led to the dining room, in hopes of tiring herself out with a walk. And as she opened the door, she heard the noises she had heard the first night.

Her heart stopped. When she stepped out carefully, she almost collapsed: it was only the girl! Yet she was against the wall curled in a ball, hugging herself as she cried. An overwhelming wave of sympathy washed over Evey. "Are you hurt?" She asked quietly; still, it made the servant jump. "It's alright; it is simply I, Lady Evey. Are you alright?" Oh how she wished she knew her name!

The servant stood with the expectation of having to go do something for her, speaking quietly in her native language. It suddenly struck Evey: the girl was German! She had to be! Her own knowledge of the language was rusty, not enough to convey anything similar to the situation. "Was Blair here?" The mention of the man's name made the girl jump.

So the abuse had continued!

For the first time all week, Evey felt something other than self-pity. She felt determination to get this servant safe. "Stay here, I'm going to find Mag- Lord Macintosh and we're going to get a translator. I'll be damned if I let that pig strike again!" But was she really safe here? Had she been hiding? Or had there just been another assault? Her stomach churned as she considered it. "Do you know where my room is?"

The German woman nodded, her eyes red from crying. Evey smiled a little. "Good, good…go to my room. Knock at the door down the hall and stay with my ladies; if they aren't awake, then you have permission – no, in fact I order you to stay in my room with the door shut until I return. Do you understand?"

When she nodded again and took off, Evey had to take a second to recall how to breathe. Yes, this was all real, she thought to herself. And off she went. Evey went through the halls and was just about to pass through the common area when she heard something nearby.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Evey spun around and opened her mouth to call out when a hand wrapped around her throat. A weak scream left her, her breath left her when she found her back harshly tossed into the stone wall behind her. Her own fingers went to wrap around the wrist, her eyes huge.

The scent of alcohol was almost overwhelming from the person before her. When she started to struggle, the man's grasp tightened. Finally, he leaned forward enough to whisper into her ear, "Already up from our first encounter?!" It was Blair! A very drunk Blair.

Evey's heart stopped when she realized what had just happened. In the plain dress, she much looked like the German woman – minus the hair and features, which the dim lights and alcohol covered up quite smoothly. And Blair thought she was…

"Release…me!" She hissed while starting to feel light headed.

"She talks! Broken English…ha!" Blair pulled away just enough to do something – Evey didn't want to look any further down than she had to – that he subsequently loosened his grip on her neck. In that moment, she took advantage and gave a vicious scream for help.

Almost instantly Blair's fist found her face before the other tightened. "Can't be havin' that. Don't want to wake the castle!" The laugh he gave was so dark that Evey felt fear flood her veins. Though she didn't want to think it, she knew what he was going to do…

Her survival instincts kicked in – literally. She flung wildly at him without restraint, knowing if she missed her chance, if she passed out…it would be all over. The Duchess felt her nails dig into something on his face but knew not what specifically. Whatever it was, it worked: Blair flung her away and covered his face with his own howl of pain.

With her head thin and her cheek throbbing, the English woman stumbled as she tried to stand and ran. Two halls later – she had no idea where she was going, so long as she found another person – she heard footsteps behind her. Just as she turned a corner, her bloody hand on the wall, she found a shiny, sharp sword pressed to her neck.

A half-heard yelp left her lips as she stumbled back a couple steps, the chill of the metal against her neck an unwelcomed sensation. When she looked up to who was holding the weapon, her legs almost gave out from relief: Magnus! And behind him with equally huge eyes stood Vailean; both were gaping openly at her state.

"What happened to you?" Vailean spoke first, shaking his head sharply to the left to rid himself of his hair long enough to take in her disheveled appearance with both eyes.

Through the entire time, Evey hadn't stopped crying. Her body trembled and her sobs were ugly, the effect of being choked a lasting one. When she tried to speak, she failed to find the proper words. Magnus' sword, though loosely gripped now, remained in his hand with the tip on the floor.

It was only when she was reminded of the person behind her did she act. Blair stepped out of the shadows, turning the corner, when Evey spun away. With a cry, she grabbed Vailean's sword from his holster and turned back around. In the same movement, she brought the sword across Blair.

The Noble roared as he fell back a few paces, his fur now soaked in the blood from his chest. His hands went one to the wall to keep him up and the other to the gash below his collarbone. That did nothing to stop Evey from swinging again and this time as the tip of the blade found its way through the very side of Blair's gut, this time Evey realized she was swinging like a novice instead of the expert of caliber.

"Evey!" Magnus bellowed as he finally moved. His own sword was dropped and he moved to grab her. His son, however, was quicker. Vailean grabbed her wrist and twisted them just enough to make his own weapon fall from her grasp.

The Duchess tried to yank away from Vailean, not because of who he was but because of the familiar sensation of restrained wrists. She gave a short scream as she tried to thrash away. "Evey, calm down!" The young Macintosh ordered. "Evey, stop! It's me, only me…it's your betroth!" Vailean pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, his grip tight.

Eventually she either calmed down or lost her energy, but the girl was relatively subdued in his arms. Her body was shaking violently, her breathing ragged from crying. Magnus looked over after making sure that Blair wasn't dead, his adrenaline rushing from the entire event. Had it not been for Evey's scream – which he realized it belonged to her now – he wouldn't have woken and this would have…he shuddered to think of what may have been.

Two guards rushed over "just in time". Before they could even ask what had happened, Magnus spoke calmly, "Gather the doctor…tell him a Noble is bleeding severely. Now!"

And as quickly as they had arrived, they left.

Evey who, for the most part, had calmed down with the occasional hiccupping sob, was turned in Vailean's grip. Her back was against his chest, her arms hugging herself as Vailean's were around her stomach thanks to the height difference. She stared at Blair with contempt and fear, with hesitation but also the need to finish the job. True she had lashed out in defense, in the heat of the moment…now she wanted nothing more than to just kill him for nearly defiling her, for beating her.

"What happened?" Magnus finally asked the question on both of their minds. When he received no answer, he stepped in between her line of sight and the injured body, looking down with, what he hoped to be, an expression of concern rather than judgment. "Evey?"

The Duchess looked up for a split second when she found his bare chest before her instead. Yet as soon as he spoke her name, the reality of the situation sunk in. The girl looked down at his feet, shame filling her. She had nearly been violated…she nearly lost her worth.

When he saw this, Lord Macintosh placed his fingers under her chin, just as he had first done when she curtseyed at their first meeting, and gently lifted her head up. Soon, her green watery eyes rested on his. His words were soft and warm, pleading almost for he suspected he knew exactly what had happened.

"You never looked away before…don't start avoidin' my gaze now lass."

Just like that, Evey felt a dam break. All the emotions she had pent up for the past week just rushed out. She cried again…cried for healing this time. And while she was held by her betroth, Magnus placed his hand on her cheek with Evey's fingers wrapped around his wrist. Her eyes never left his as she wept.

* * *

Preview: Epilogue of that horrible Blair mess. Then…

Spring is almost here! And that means so is the wedding! And by custom – and for the ability to brag of land, money, and beauty he is receiving – Lord Macintosh invites the other clans to come over for dinner. Yup, introduce Merida and the others!

And oh yeah, Evey is the only one oblivious to the previous attempted courtship that Vailean tried on Merida (AKA, the movie).


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: After reviewing my timeline, I think I might have to hold off on a few things I had said before…we'll see Otherwise it won't flow right.

* * *

"What exactly happened?" Jane snapped as both the young and elder Macintosh walked in, the servant standing in front of Evey who was on her third cup of chamomile tea – with a touch of the hard stuff. And while it had been effective in calming her down, the girl still had a slight fear, an awareness for things...though sluggish as it was because of the 'hard stuff'.

Magnus looked almost like he didn't want to speak, like admitting his wrong would cause the ceiling to collapse on him. His son, however, after seeing Evey's state – and knowing just how much a 'touch' of the hard stuff she had just by how she looked – stepped up. "She was attacked by a Noble." There was a sneer in his tone at the last word.

Under any other circumstances, Evey would have melted, touched for his concern and disgust for her, even despite the secrets she had discovered. But the mention of the particular noble made her shudder and almost drop the cup.

"How much of this has she had?" Magnus questioned as he picked up half a bottle of amber liquid.

Katherine stepped forward, having been rubbing circles on the Duchess' shoulder, and spoke with her hands clasped tight, as if giving her mistress alcohol was bad. "We couldn't calm her down any other way. She kept crying and swinging at us…it's just enough to make her…sleepy."

"Why was the Duchess attacked?! How could you let this happen?!" Jane, the mother figure with claws, snapped as she stood before Lord Macintosh, forgetting her place entirely for the sake of voicing outrage. "You knew! Our Lady told you! She _told _you about Blair and you ignored her! You trusted blindly and now look at what almost happened! What if she had been..." this was the only time she faulted, hissing the word, "raped?!"

At any other time, Lord Macintosh would have scowled and perhaps shouted down the servant who dared speak up against him – and before an audience too! But the reality of the situation had sunk in and on some level, he knew the woman before him was right. Still, he stood straighter and inhaled, puffing out his chest. In the light from the fireplace, he looked like an old man, filled with regret. Quite accurately too.

"But she wasn't." Vailean spoke up again where his father had failed. "Maybe…we all need to go to sleep." His eyes darted between the servant and his father. The only thing saving that woman from more than a sharp word from him was the fact that Jane had spoken to his father, who apparently did not value pride so much as he once did.

Just then, Evey stood. Wobbly, but still, she stood to diffuse the situation. "That's enough…what…will happen to him now?"

"If he lives," Magnus stepped back and turned to look at Evey, grateful he didn't have to stare at the steel-eyed woman, "he will be put under arrest for attacking a royal member."

"Only for me?!" Evey hiccupped, covering her mouth and trying not to fall back. "Why not the German servant? What about her, Magnus? What…what justice will…" she had to lean upon Marian.

Macintosh shook his head. "Until she says she was attacked…"

"Then ask her! Surely someone…has to speak German, otherwise…" Evey stopped, trying to get the wheels in her head to work. "How did she get here?"

Magnus stepped forward and nodded to the chair, signaling Marian to get her to sit. When Evey was seated once more, he explained, "Her family came here for protection…her parents have long since passed. Other than that, I don't know."

"Ask her. And make sure…" Again Evey stopped dead. She looked around, almost falling off the chair in the process. "Where is she? I told her to come here…lock herself in my room or…or come here."

There was a brief moment of stillness in the room. "Well?!" She tried to shout. Katherine jumped and ran to the other connecting room to check. As she did, the Duchess tried to finish her original thought. "If we ask…and she says yes…Blair will be charged with that too?"

Magnus nodded. "Good...for now…I wish to bathe…and sleep. Good night, my lord. Vailean."

* * *

With the more days spaced between the attack and the present, Evey grew back to her normal confident self, no longer so jumpy. Of course it had helped when she was told that Blair would be charged with attacking both her and the servant. So when a week had passed, Evey had taken upon herself to both re-instate her sword lessons with Magnus and to roam the market, get the people to know her. Grow accustomed to her.

And for the first couple days, she enjoyed it. She liked being able to leave the castle, to socialize with those who would one day support her as she, and her betroth, would protect them. But every now and again, she would see the woman…Vailean's love. And she would flinch.

It got to the point where it plagued her mind. She wondered just what she lacked that the girl had. And the more she thought of it, the more the answer became obvious: the girl was…a girl. She knew not how to sword fight or shoot arrows…she was no threat to Vailean.

Although Evey always loved her education, loved her ability to defend herself, she suddenly wondered…why. Why did she receive such a precious curse? She decided to write to her mother and ask, all without mentioning the other woman.

And for the next week as she waited, Evey went on with her life. It was only the day when Magnus said he would have an announcement for everyone at dinner did she receive a reply.

_My Dearest Daughter,_

_I receive your letter is excellent health, as I hope you will receive mine. Your father developed a cold over this winter and the snow, like the rain, has yet to stop. Still, our ships sail free of any ice and deliver this letter to you._

_You ask, why did I even offer you the deal, a Prince's Education for your obedience? _

_You were never an unruly child so it was not strictly bribery. The truth is, when I was your age, I knew quite well how to fight with a sword. I knew how to shoot decently with a bow. And I had just been in the middle of shocking the last bit of my mother's hair gray by learning the most unladylike sport: hand-to-hand combat. Yes, you read that correctly._

_But then, much to my family's relief, I met your father…and to be honest, I fell in love. _

_Suddenly starting a family with him was more important to me than how to dodge a fist. Yet as I grew older, as you grew older, I wanted to teach you what I knew. Alas, my skills had grown rusty and I realized with a little bit of horror that I had forgotten more of what I was taught._

_So I hired the best teachers in London to teach you while I observed. Your father and I agreed that if you learned the way a Prince would, so long as you submitted to marriage on your agreed upon birthday, you could swing any sort of sword if you wished._

_The short answer, my dear Evey, is…I fell in love and now I live vicariously through you._

_Your Mother, _

_The Duchess Helena of Saxon_

* * *

Preview:  
NEXT Chapter for sure!: Spring is almost here! And that means so is the wedding! And by custom – and for the ability to brag of land, money, and beauty he is receiving – Lord Macintosh invites the other clans to come over for dinner. Yup, introduce Merida and the others!

And oh yeah, Evey is the only one oblivious to the previous attempted courtship that Vailean tried on Merida (AKA, the movie).

Also…could this possibly have any problems in the future or explain anything in the past (hint, hint, a few choice words in Chapter 1?) :P


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hello all! I apologize for the long pause in between. The last chapter was a forced-write…this chapter isn't too terribly much. It's just been an exhausting time period IRL. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Dinner was interrupted with the announcement Magnus, who just couldn't wait anymore, hinted to. Evey glanced up after toying with her soup; her mother's letter had been weighing heavily on her mind. "Aye, listen up! The snow has stopped fallin'…which means spring is close by." The betrothed couple glanced at each other, but at seeing they were caught seeing one another, jumped and looked away. "I've sent letters to the other Lords and to the King! They responded today sayin' they'll be here by the week's end out."

Evey dropped her spoon, the loud clank and small splash of the soup ignored. Her bright blue eyes met Macintosh's, taking a moment to register it all. "I…beg your pardon? The…the _King_?! Meaning the _Queen _will be here as well?!" She looked between the Macintosh males and realized with a start that they were calm, if not excited by the prospect. "I…how am I to act? I've never been taught about this before! Are the same rules about the Queen of England the same here?"

Magnus sat back in his chair and wore an amused grin of old comforts. He watched the Duchess panic a little bit more before he chuckled. "The Queen has…since our last visit, become much more tolerable."

"You…you met her? I mean, of course, but…how? When?" What if the woman had gotten meaner since the last time instead of nicer? What if she didn't like English ladies? What if Evey said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing, or, or…_didn't_ do something?

There was a low rumbling laugh from Macintosh, the lord placing his hands on the table. "Lady, calm yourself! She's not so…adamant about how she's treated like before. You'll be fine. Just…treat her like you treat us." He paused. So far since Evey's arrival there had been sword fights, drinking, fighting a Nobel, and a trip to the beach. "…Treat her like you'd treat your England Queen unless she says different." There, that worked.

Evey's eyes widened. "Oh, of course. What…what should I wear? When did you say they were coming? I should practice my mannerisms. Oh! I should sew her something. Right. Are there any customs here that you perform?"

Vailean had a grin on his face, a snicker that didn't go unnoticed by Evey. But as soon as this occurred, it faltered. "Does that mean the Princess will be here too?"

"Aye lad." The Macintosh men met gazes and held a silent conversation. Had Evey been paying attention to it instead of going through a list in her head, she would have wondered what they were saying – or, more importantly, not saying about the Princess.

"I need to start working on my gift now. I should…should…what…does she like? What is their symbol again? A dagger, isn't it?" Evey stood then looked between them, noticing a sort of tension disappearing.

Magnus almost groaned. How much of the land's lessons had she soaked up while here? "A sword." He corrected her before watching Evey, and her ladies, scurry away. When she was gone, he looked back at his son, almost hesitant to speak; there was no easy way to say it without admitting there was…no right way to do this. "It can't be mentioned near Evey that the Princess was why I had taken a month to reply to her mother's letter. She can't know that you tried for her hand."

"Evey's the jealous kind?" Vailean sat up straighter at this. Although Magnus didn't quite catch it, or understand it, one thought ran through young Macintosh's mind: Annis. If Evey were to find out…

"I don't believe so, but that isn't the problem. The contract your mother and I signed…one part of it was that if you were to try and court for another's hand, it'd be void." Magnus stared ahead, not at his son.

The young Macintosh's eye, the one not covered by his hair, widened a bit. To risk the land, money, and ties…even worse to go around the contract, and the England family's back, to cover up the failed attempt…why? As if reading his son's mind, Magnus added, perhaps more for his own benefit and ease of guilt, "It was a chance at the _Princess_…much better than a foreign Duchess." But not much better than Evey, he thought silently.

* * *

"M'lady?" Marian piped up, as soft as she was. "M'lady are you alright?" It was such a foolish question to ask, but still the woman voiced it. And, unlike the other two ladies, she got away with it. Marian was the sort of concerned friend, not the strict lady like Jane. And that gave Evey enough pause to register who spoke.

Without realizing it, Evey had started to pace – again. Chewing on her nails on her right hand, the young woman turned with her elbow in her hand across her stomach. "Yes, yes, I just…I do not know what to wear. We finished stitching the gift but…I had been so occupied with mannerisms that I just…forgot. I mean, what do I wear to show the Queen that I'm truly dedicated to this land and its people?"

"What of this?" Jane held up a blue gown with pearls on the edges.

The Duchess shook her head, her hair, which lacked braids, flying all over the place. "No, no…it's too English. It's the fashion they wear in London. We're in _Scotland_ now and…why haven't I had any dresses made in their style? This should have been on the top of my list a few months ago!" She spun around again and was just about to start pacing once more when Katherine stepped in.

"M'lady, I found a dress! A Scottish dress!" She added as she held it up. Much like the red pattern of the clan, the skirt was nothing but. The top was simply white with a black corset over it – or was it a vest? Evey's mouth dropped as she stepped over, looking over it carefully. "What do you think?"

She reached out and touched the gown, swallowing. "Er…uh…well…it uh…is there anything a bit more…solid?" After a pause, she added, "Is this really…becoming to wear when meeting royalty?"

Jane glanced out the window, listening closely. She shook her head when she came back, the heavy curtain closed again. "There's no time to find something else. They've docked at port. Quick, m'lady, dress!"

Within the next few minutes, Evey stepped outside her room very much so wishing to hide back inside. She felt…silly like that. But if it was what people were wearing…though why would Macintosh just so happen to have it lying around?

When she arrived at the dining hall, she spotted both Macintosh males standing outside the door, waiting for the royal family to settle inside. Soon, McGuffin and Dingwall clans would join the hall since their ships had just docked. This was their time to shine.

And shine Evey did. For as soon as she stepped into Vailean's line of vision, with Magnus' back to her, Vailean stopped talking and stared with his mouth hanging freely open. Whatever Magnus was saying, having noticed his son gaping, had died off. Evey felt her cheeks start to redden as deep as the bottom part of the dress was. Why did she have to wear this _now_?

When Magnus turned around, confusion covering his face, Evey almost shrunk. Yet in just a moment, he almost imitated his son. His eyes widened and his lips parted but unlike his son, he remained quiet. Vailean spoke up. "You…" he cleared his throat. "You look well." Well? What sort of compliment was that? Of course she was well – but that wasn't why he was staring! "I'll…I'm goin' to…check on somethin'." And as if frightened, he slipped away down the hall.

"Is…he alright?" Evey asked as she watched him leave, turning to do so. When she heard nothing but silence as an answer, she turned back around and almost jumped: Macintosh had taken a step closer to her. And despite his abnormally long feet, he was just a couple steps away from her. "M-M'lord? Are you…did I do something wrong?"

Although her own cheeks had cooled off a bit, Macintosh, she noted, held a light pink hue to his. Her brows furrowed, Evey relaxed a bit. "Magnus, are you feeling alright?" Her hand moved without accord, reaching up to press the back of her hand to his forehead. Though warm, it held no fever. Just as she meant to pull away, senior Macintosh darted up and grabbed her wrist.

And for a long moment, neither budged an inch. In fact, they stared openly, blue eyes meeting green. There were no words, silent or otherwise, exchanged. Just…feeling. Feeling her pulse through her wrist, feeling the heat radiate off his flesh. Whatever nerves and fears Evey possessed before about meeting the Queen was gone, replaced with tranquility with a hint of…exhilaration. "My…" she meant to speak more, but the effort for such a simple one syllable word was so much that she fell silent again.

Magnus once more surprised her, shocked her really. With her hand having been drifting over his forehead for the past few moments – minutes really – he moved her hand down. It was just an inch until the palm of her hand rested against his cheek. Evey's green eyes widened to the size of jewels, her heart skipping a beat. But as soon as it started, it ended. He released her hand and stood straight up again.

Evey slowly lowered her hand, her palm hot from where she had touched him. Magnus cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his suddenly hot neck. "Where'd you find that dress, Evey?"

Somehow she found her voice. "I…I didn't. Katherine did, one of my ladies. She didn't mention from where. I just wanted to be more…Scottish."

"I see…it isn't a bad thing to want." He reassured her. But then he paused, unsure if he should continue; no doubt Vailean left thinking he'd be angry. "That dress belonged to my late Lady Macintosh…when we first courted. She wore it at a dance." Which explained why it was so…festive.

Evey's pale flesh turned a deep crimson in a matter of seconds. She looked away from Macintosh to stare down at herself, horrified. "M-my lord, I beg your forgiveness! Had I had any idea, I swear to you I wouldn't have…"

"No, no, Evey it's alright. It's…it's fine. Don't apologize, lass. I just…almost forgot about it. You look uh…very becoming in it." He stared for a moment longer, as if wanting to say more but decided against it. "Well then." He clapped his hands together once. "Everyone should be here. Are you ready?"

As if she had another option if she wasn't.

* * *

Next Chapter: Dinner with the royals! But what's this? Vailean and his friends can't keep their mouth shut…and this time, Evey doesn't take it in silence.


	12. Chapter 12

Again guys, sorry for the long wait. Inspiration lacked, then as soon as it hit…classes and work started lol. Can't win for losing. Anyway, here you go! Thanks for sticking with me

* * *

So the dress was once Lady Macintosh's. How…how…uh…Evey faltered even in her thoughts. How was she to greet the King and Queen, as well as the other Lords, if she couldn't even finish a thought?!

The dress wasn't exactly…Lady-like. That was to say, Evey had noticed that the pattern and style was so…so…common. And she grimaced at the word. But it was the only thing that she could find – that her _ladies_ could find – in time that looked Scottish. That _was_ Scottish. And for some reason, it hadn't come across her mind to ask why the dress wasn't exactly…ah…regal.

Perhaps if she survived the evening, she might ask Magnus about it.

"Breathe, lassy." A deep rumble left Macintosh's throat as he, his son, and his future daughter-in-law (as well as her ladies in the background) stood before the long dinner table. Evey glanced up to her right, for Vailean was at her left, and obeyed.

Vailean glanced over at the exact moment to see his father giving him a sharp glance, a nudge without nudging since Evey was between them. Taking the hint, he added in a stumble of a voice, "You'll, uh, be fine, Evey." He gave a smile that almost made Evey relax – almost.

Before she could thank either of them, a guard rang out. "Welcoming the Clans DunBroch, MacGuffin, and Dingwall!" The doors flew open, introducing just the immediate royalties. Lord MacGuffin and his young son entered from the left, Lord Dingwall and his son on the right. Between them stood, as the guard announced loudly, King Fergus, Queen Elinor, and Princess Merida.

And for a moment, Evey gaped. Not at how few there were, how intimidating the men – and queen – were, and not even from their judging, calculating looks. She gaped at the princess's hair. Her…wild…wild red, curly, wild hair. Never did such a thing even be dreamt of in England – it must be a Scottish trait, Evey decided.

It was only when she heard her own name and title did she snap back into reality. Making a small jolt, she did a deep curtsey, grabbing at the ends of her dress – well, not _her _dress but the one she was borrowing – to tug aside so she could perfect her show of respect. And then she realized something: the two women's dresses…were solid. Stunning. Simple.

What…in the hell…was Evey wearing?

And just like when Evey first met the Macintosh men, having gaped at their skirts in mid-bow and stayed frozen for a long moment, she had a repeat now. Catching this, and the silence, Lord Macintosh spoke up, always enjoying hearing himself. "Welcome, welcome! I trust everyone had good winds for sailing?"

He had stepped forward to gesture grandly, subtly nudging Evey in the process. The girl jumped back up and kept tight lipped. It was only when he glanced back did he realize her face was as red as the dress she wore.

Vailean was smirking, though still a bit bored, at the sons and Princess. He even performed the trick he had when he first was introduced to Merida, his pecks 'introducing' themselves. Oblivious, Evey finally managed to speak and, impressively, spoke without a crack in her voice. "It is a great pleasure to meet you all, especially to my King and Queen. I have heard many great tales of grand battles about the clans from my lords." And then she bit the inside of her cheek, waiting for their response. Were they already thinking she was a foolish English girl for wearing what she did? An airhead?

While Merida was trying not to laugh, a wacky, wavy smile on her face, Queen Elinor didn't skip a beat. "And it is our pleasure to meet the Duchess of Saxony at last. It is refreshing to see that you're already so enthused with our culture already." There was no malice or sarcasm in her tone, and that was perhaps the only thing keeping Evey from curling into an infant pose. The others weren't so kind, their eyes and snickers quite obvious of what they thought of her.

"Well then, shall we?" Magnus spoke up, nodding to the large table near them. Having just journeyed from far off, no doubt they were hungry for real food.

"Aye," Fergus snickered, "a dinner of _formality_." He emphasized the word so, drawing more snickers though Evey couldn't quite tell from where. When he was elbowed by his wife though, he quickly shut up.

As they went to sit at the round table, Evey reached out, touching Magnus' arm lightly. "Why didn't you tell me I wore something so gaudy for this occasion?!"

It was only when he gave her a sharp glare at her word choice, no doubt, did Evey realize she had spoken out of frustration. Before she could even inhale to apologize, Lord Macintosh said tersely, "Your dress choice will be discussed later." Now what exactly did that mean?!

Once they were all seated, conversations started. Shortly afterwards, platters of food filled every inch of the table, along with goblets nearly overflowing with ale. It was a feast! And along with every feast, naturally, came stories of glory and gore. And laughter. There was a lot of laughter.

Very easily the issue of her dress was forgotten. And after a couple goblets of ale, Evey found herself telling stories of her homeland, earning laughter and knee-slaps and even a Queenly chuckle. If the Queen had been harsher one time before this, Evey didn't want to know about it.

Evey flipped her hair back, the pearls braided in hitting the chair behind her. It was only then that she noticed the Queen had her hair down, loose but with one simple long ribbon around it. Not so much to confine, but just to keep from becoming as messy as…well, her daughter's. Interesting.

By the end of the night, just as it was starting to get light outside, they all stood. The guards and servants, the Clans were told, would show them to their rooms and be available for protection and service. Evey, a bit woozy from the drinks, nodded to each person as they left. Perhaps she'd make friends with Merida…

Once they had all retired, even Vailean had departed, Evey realized she was still in the room while the kitchen staff moved in to clean. The woman glanced up to hear a shift next to her: Magnus.

"M'lord." She greeted drowsily.

There was just the soft clanking of plates and silverware being put away for a moment. When Macintosh finally spoke, his voice was deep and scratchy, but otherwise unaffected from the drink…unlike the English lass. "Evey. Come, I'll escort you to your room. Your ladies will be awake?" He held his arm out.

Evey gladly took hold of his arm, leaning in as they started to walk. He was warm. "If not, I'll awake them. This dress is comfortable but perhaps not enough to sleep in it." It took about a hall's length for Evey to recall what she had hissed at Magnus earlier. "M'lord, about my comment before dinner…"

"The Late Lady Macintosh and I were the first generation to be allowed to court before marriage. We were young once too…it was the third night, I think, that we were together that she suggested something. She told me that there was a celebration for their marriage in the village, one that the villagers threw." Macintosh went on. "It was late when I heard a knock on my door. When I looked, I was shocked: my Peigi stood there in the very dress you're wearing now.

"She tugged at my hand – not at all the demure lady I met three days before – and said to get dressed in my most common clothing. We were going to the festival to dance." Evey stared up at Macintosh, a small smile on her face that copied his own. "So for the night until dawn, we had snuck out of the castle…and even though the villagers knew it was us, they didn't mind. They clapped and sang for us." His eyes shined with the memories, his grip over Evey's hand, which rested on his forearm, tighten slightly.

When he finally snapped back to it, he cleared his throat. "But that is the significance of that dress, my lady."

They stopped at her room, his gaze shifting to her. It wasn't a snarl, a smuggish remark, or anything of that effect. It was just a soft explanation. Evey looked up, one heel stepping back against the door to keep from falling. "Then I am honored to wear this dress, Magnus."

"Take good care of it." He hesitated, but Evey knew what he meant: it was the last thing he had of her, besides his son. And even then, she was taking _that _away from him. "Good night, Evey." He lifted his forearm, bringing her hand up, and took it in his own. With a soft peck to the back of it, he gave a bow and smiled as he walked away.

And Evey kept against the door, watching, her heart burning pleasantly from it all. And there was just one thought in her mind: He must have seen her as his Peigi this entire evening.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Princess Merida." Evey spoke up with a slight jolt at the sudden appearance of the curly red head. It was right after noon, the time when most woke up, that Evey had decided she wanted fresh air. And although it was coming closer to spring, it was still chilly enough to wear a fur robe.

The sun was out and behind her were her three ladies, soaking up the sun just as Evey was. Evey had started to walk towards a tree to find a swing that was supposedly on it (so she heard the giggles from the maids) when an arrow flew into the trunk of the tree, released by the running red head to get it back.

There had been a huge rumble behind her from her ladies, all about to snarl at the servant who dared to let loose an arrow without shouting a warning – it could have hit Evey, of course. But as soon as they saw the princess, the three shut their mouths until Evey jolted to reality.

"Ah, good afternoon Lady Elward." Merida smiled as she walked over, giving a sharp yank to the arrow. She had a certain bounce to her step that horrified her ladies, though Evey was simply amused. "Er, sorry 'bout that. Didn't think anyone would be out so early."

"Please, call me Evey." The girl's eyes were bright, dancing almost as she realized what had just happened. "So you…you are an excellent hand at archery? I didn't know I was the only royal female to be educated like a Prince!"

She must have been bouncing on her heels, excited, for Merida gave a light chuckle. "Alright Evey," she said her name in two parts like Macintosh, "you can call me Merida. You know how to shoot?"

"Well, my hand is better at a sword than a bow, I'll admit. Certainly not as grand as you. I'm glad to see the stories of your accuracy ring true!" She clasped her hands, excited to be talking to the princess so easily. A friend, perhaps? "Perhaps later we can try each other's sports?"

Merida looked like she was trying not to giggle at how Evey spoke. "We can at dinner; I know Lord Macintosh enjoys a show for dinner. Even if your betroth doesn't."

Evey snorted, crossing her arms a bit. Her tone was light but her eyes were a bit darker now. "Yes, well, he'll just have to adjust to his soon-to-be-wife being able to beat him in certain things. After all, we can't all be great at everything!" She wasn't sure whether to be amused or worried that Vailean's…uh, showmanship was well known throughout the land.

And just like that, the two were talking about all sorts of things. They kept outside, free from the castle – that Merida was a free spirit, Evey thought – and even rode the horses around the area. There was no need to be careful in her speech or thoughts about Merida; this much was obvious to Evey.

By the end of the sun and the rise of the moon, the girls hadn't stopped in the kitchen to gather anything to eat. Their stomachs growled in between their laughter, their stories of their parents. As they left the stables, Evey noticed her ladies near the same tree from earlier, looking relieved to see their lady safe. "I suppose its dinner time."

"Ready to fight then?" Merida grinned as they walked into the castle.

"As soon as I change!"

"Don't worry about that, you look fine as you are. Better than yesterday." Merida opened the doors for them, oblivious to Evey's soft blush. "After we eat." She meant the sword fight.

"After we eat." With that agreed upon, the two went to sit at their spots. Evey smiled at the Lords and King and Queen, giving a courtesy and greeting them gently. Once all had sat down, she heard a noise, several noises, getting closer.

The doors opened again: Vailean's town friends. The ones she had seen with Annis and Vailean, the ones that had insulted her the first night she had gotten drunk. Evey's back straightened, almost snapped, and her jaw tightened. And while the others were getting situated with talks in between, she went to sit down prim and proper. Magnus, having been in mid-conversation with Dingwall, glanced over to see the sudden change of his Duchess. Quite something different than the earlier day, having watched her run around with the wild princess with a smile plastered on her face.

Before he could contemplate what the meaning of this was, the servants busted in with plates of food. And just like that, the conversations kept on, loud and excited as if there were an entire army in there instead of just the Clans and some Nobles friends. And though Merida was just as giggly, Evey was no longer. Instead, for a third time, Evey drank more than ate, more than talked even.

By the end of the third hour, the sword fights were going on. It was Dingwall against MacGuffin at first, then Vailean's turn. She heard one of Vailean's friends say something. "…Annis wants to marry…stop the betrothal with the sour-looking cow!" There were other words…she couldn't quite make it out in the crowd. But she did hear Vailean's words, which seemed to ring louder than he meant them to.

"I'll keep Annis after the marriage." Then he stood and moved to the middle of the room, sword drawn for what was supposed to be against Dingwall's son. But Evey's face colored deeply at this. He would keep a mistress. He would…would…

Evey closed her eyes for a moment and stood. But instead of doing a repeat of the other night, for she heard Vailean's friends mumbling at this déjà vu, she walked around the table and went to the middle of the room. As she did, she grabbed the sword from Wee Dingwall and held it up, her eyes bleary and her balance a bit off.

Silence, for the first time in hours, fell.

"Pick up your sword and cross it with mine, Vailean." She ordered coldly, surprisingly steady in voice. "Now. Unless you're…" her lips twitched into a grin, "…scared to be beaten by an English sow."

Vailean's handsome, stunned face warped into eyes narrowed and a growl on his face. He picked up his sword and they clashed. Although he wasn't quite like his father in his moves, it was clear that Magnus had taught him how to fight. There were certain traits of his sword fighting that screamed the Lord's skill, like how he moved with his feet. As if he had big feet like his father.

But the rest was his own style, his other teacher's styles. But Evey brought to the table the same concept. She moved with fierceness that she hadn't felt in months. And despite being obviously a bit tipsy, she managed to keep her miscalculations to a minimum.

At long last, she was a step ahead of him. He swung, she stepped back and then brought her sword down and across. A bit of his long hair fell to the ground, trimmed almost from the edge. She stared and breathed heavily, her arm steady as she held the sword to his neck. He dropped the sword. Then a pregnant silence.

As if suddenly conscious of the people around her, Evey dropped the sword to the side. Sweating, red, and aware, Evey looked around. Before anyone could cheer or boo, or even just continue gaping, she turned and fled.

With Magnus not far behind her.

And Vailean stood there a moment longer, about an inch of his hair on his shoulder and floor while his sword lay loosely in his grip.

* * *

Next Chapter: Aftermath of the win. Magnus fumes to Evey afterwards until she cracks as to what started it all. And Vailean wants to end the betrothal for good…and he intends to use Merida for it.


	13. Chapter 13

Her entire body was trembling. Each step she took wasn't exactly straight – though from the wine or the fear, she did not know – which made her sway as she walked. She wanted to run and hide after what had just happened before the King and Queen…before the other clans! Oh no…she heard large, fast footsteps coming behind her.

"Mind explaining what that was about, Lady?" Magnus asked as he turned the corner with her, his tone neutral and, in that sense, alarming. Evey didn't know if he was upset with her or not. And yet how could he not be?

"It was nothing, my Lord," she shifted back to their titles as he did; was that a sign of his displeasure or just because people were nearby? "Please, leave me to my room so I may wait for this wine's effects to leave me." She needed to stop drinking, she thought. Still, she kept walking, occasionally using her hand against the wall to guide her.

Just as she reached the hall that was her room, Magnus took a couple big steps and ended up in front of her. Evey nearly bounced off of him when she walked into him, looking up with a gleam of uncertainty in her eyes. His own gaze was stern, neutral still, but made her tremble before him.

Why? Why was she so frightened of him? Of what he'd say or think or do?

"A wife's to show support to her husband, not beat him to the ground in front of all the other clans on the first time. How's he to gain any respect from that?" Macintosh stared down at her, keeping his back straight. Her trembling didn't go unnoticed, which was why he kept his volume down, nor did her struggle to meet his eyes.

Evey couldn't decide what was better: her feet or his eyes. Preferably her own feet were less judging, less dangerous at this moment. One wrong word of an explanation and she may very well damn Vailean and his little mistress-to-be. And yet how else would she be able to justify her temper and her sudden taking down of Vailean?

"Please step aside, Lord Macintosh." Her head was down and her tone just as subdued.

The wild hair of his moved almost majestically as he shook his head. "I do not believe you can hold your wine, Lady Elward."

She quickly latched onto that excuse. "No, m'lord, I cannot. Please let me leave."

"But that doesn't explain the underlying frustrations you have with my son." As if he had had it planned out what to say when she took the bait. When she said nothing, he urged, "Tell me."

Evey wills herself to get upset, to get angry, outraged even. But she can't. She can't just stomp her foot and screech like a commoner before storming off – though the last bit sounds so attractive. Instead, she struggles. "My lord, please…it won't happen again. I simply will stay away from wine from now on. Just, please, let me…let me go to my room."

For a second, it looked like Magnus' mask would crack. But that second passes and he merely waits still, silent as stone. She finally gains some feeling back in her leg and steps to the side, intending to go around him. But as soon as she took a step, he sidestepped as well. She ended up almost pressed against him, his body heat radiating onto her. Evey shudders and looks away.

"Even if I have to keep you awake through the hangover," he said cooly, "I will not budge until you tell me the truth." A beat. "It'd be dangerous to the clan if this issue goes unchecked, Evey."

The girl's green eyes rose to meet his although she struggled to see past the film of tears. He was right. Gods, he was right and she hated it. "His…" she struggled to collect the right words, for her body fought against her mind as much as it could. "…he…Magnus, your son does not love me."

Magnus stared at her for a moment with, what she thought at least, disgust. "Vailean is a fine lad, he just doesn't know how to express his affections. That's what this courtin' period is for. To act as you have for…"

"No, Magnus, that isn't it!" Evey spoke with such fierceness that it startled even her. Her teeth had gritted, the words sliding through to be heard. "That isn't it! He doesn't love me because he isn't affectionate or vain or whatever it may be! I have _seen _him hold great adoration, but not to me! I have seen him stroke a cheek as gentle as a lamb and I have seen how the blinders around his eyes drop when he sees another, when his world encompasses more than just him!" She couldn't stop, the film of tears falling down her cheeks and the words spewing from her mouth. "He loves Annis, not I!"

And then a heavy silence lay on their shoulders. Evey felt suffocated the moment she finished that declaration, quite aware of what it all meant. And it terrified her, for she had just sold 'true love' out, all because she couldn't have it. "Please," she croaked out, defeated and self-loathing, "let me leave to my room now."

"How did you come to find out about this…Annis?" Magnus ignored her, yet again, and asked in a slow, calculating tone.

Shaking her head, she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, losing her composure quite swiftly. She couldn't reveal the how, for it would guarantee that Vailean wouldn't be allowed out to the village then. It would destroy the little foundation that was left over there. "I cannot…I _won't_…" she could feel herself unravel and gods only knew what else was unraveling with her.

The swishing of footsteps behind her startled the both. When Evey turned to look, she spotted a mess of red hair. She sniffed as Merida walked over, lacking the fear that Evey held towards the senior Macintosh. "There you are…er, Lord Macintosh." She did a small curtsey in response to Macintosh's deep bow. Evey followed suit, stumbling a bit at the sudden required action. "We were getting worried."

Merida's wise eyes shifted between the two, assuming the worse probably. Before she could say anything, Macintosh nodded. "I'll leave you to the Princess' hands…and I'll send for your help. Good night, ladies." He took his leave quickly, pausing only to glance back at Evey with a sharp, questioning look. A…a protective look.

Evey's heart melted just a bit and for some reason, it hurt her. It hurt to realize that his look was one of need, want to protect her. From what? Herself? No, Vailean. And her hand went to her stomach, then her mouth, to realize she had just outed Vailean. She had just placed a target upon the other happy couple.

Before Merida could speak, Evey ran into the room and found the chamber pot, vomiting freely. A moment later, she felt her hair, which had come loose from the earlier fight, be pulled back: the Princess. The Duchess spat once before sitting up, trembling so violently that her spine started to ache.

Merida led her to the mirror, letting her sit. In the background, her ladies walked in quietly and, after surveying the scene, poured some water for the duchess. As Evey sipped slowly, Marian started to brush out her hair, pausing only briefly. It took just a moment for Evey to figure out why: she had lost her pearls. Again. And she doubted she'd ever find them again.

Just like the first time so long ago, she had dropped the pearls braided through her hair and still never found out who or what happened to them.

"Are you…okay?" Merida asked carefully.

Oblivious as to the truth, unlike the ladies, the Princess wasn't sure whether to ask what had sparked it all or not. She had figured, truthfully, that Evey had gone through enough interrogation with the Lord Macintosh and didn't need her questions.

"Too much wine." Evey spoke hoarsely, wincing at her throat. "I just need to sleep. I apologize for the evening's ending, Prin-…"

"It's Merida." The wild girl reminded her, bouncing off of the trunk she had been sitting on to stand. "And don't apologize, the evenin' was great!" She clapped her hands together, regretting it when Evey flinched. Had Macintosh struck her, she wondered? "I'll uh, leave you to it then. Pleasant night, Evey."

When the door was shut and all three maids gave their mistress a questioning look, Evey only responded with a sob.

* * *

"She knows." One of Vailean's friends uttered as the three of them slipped out into a separate hallway. "She knows. I heard her say Annis' name."

"What?!" Vailean sharply turned, his eyes wide and his hair messy from…well, everything as of late. "How? Who did she say it to?"

"Your father." The friend gave a grimace. "She was cryin' and said…ya love Annis, not her."

There was silence. Only their footsteps scraping against the floor made noise. Finally Vailean spoke, "Go and hide Annis. My father might try to talk to you both…"

"And if he already knows everythin'? What then?"

Vailean thought long and hard, his head tilted down, his hand brushing against his chin. Something came to mind. "I have a plan. When I was first told about Evey…my father said we were betrothed since we were kids. But he still had me try to win the Princess…and I think he said somethin' about that being against the contract."

The two friends stopped and smiled slowly, and in the light, a bit maliciously. "You'll be sendin' a letter to ol' England then?"

"The Duchess and Duke deserve to know about the family they're lettin' their daughter marry into." Vailean grinned.

* * *

Next Chapter: Filler, then we find out the results of Vailean's "anonymous letter"…

And I've noticed it (cause it's driven me up a WALL) but I keep switching from "ing" to just "in'" in the ending of how Macintosh speaks…and I can't help it. Because sometimes I can HEAR him clear as day and others I'm like, struggling to gather that whisper. UGH. Lol.


End file.
